The Nutcracker.

Summary. . . . . . Trying to bring an ill Sam some Christmas cheer, Dean unwittingly places his brother in danger.

Disclaimer. . . . . . Still only loaning the guys, I promise to return them, I just can't guarantee it will be in one piece.

A.N. . . . . . Still recovering from a really bad cold so I've spent the whole day writing rather than venture outside into the gales. As always I thank each and everyone of you for reading, will catch you soon, Peanut x

Sam had been scared out of his wits when Dean had come home unexpectedly early from school, startling the youngster who had crept from his bed earlier and had spent the previous half hour sitting crossed legged on the thread bare cold carpet of their room laboriously wrapping Dean's Christmas presents. He'd worked hard all year doing odd jobs in which ever crummy town they happened to be in so that this year he could treat his brother to something special; which was why he had spent so long wrapping the two gifts, his already analytical mind deliberating each cut and bend of the paper so that the edges were perfectly uniformed, the small bow centered just right, the ribbons the same length, their curls equal.

So caught up in his quest for perfection, Sam had missed the door open and close downstairs, only realizing that Dean was home when his brother hollered his name up the stairs. Sam had just managed to push the presents and packaging under the bed and pull the blankets over his body as Dean pushed open the door. He tried to relax, to even out his breathing, but he really should have known better, should have known that Dean would have seen through his guise. He cringed as Dean spoke, thinking he had been found out, part of him waiting for the telling off he knew he would receive, shocked when after a few exchanged words Dean's favourite hoodie came sailing through the air to land heavily on his face, and to hear his brother say "dress warm and lets go."

Obediently he had followed his brother's orders, wondering where they were going. He wasn't stupid he knew money was tight, that their Dad had barely left enough for them to get by on; a reason, Sam knew, why he wasn't managing to overcome this flu he had been riddled with, why it was refusing to go. Yes, he had the medicines but rather than see Dean go without food-he'd seen it too many times before when he was ill-Sam had been claiming he wasn't hungry, eating little knowing that Dean would finish it rather than waste it.

When they had stepped into the mall the child, he had started to hide deep within himself, was ecstatic, still wanting, wishing for this apple pie lifestyle. He'd followed blindly along as Dean almost raced for their destination, his eyes boggling at the sights that befell him when they finally got there, he wanted to take it all in, wanted to capture it all in his mind, his old before his years mind already knowing there wouldn't be too many more adventures like this, but Dean was dragging him off again heading for the rows of seats positioned before a stage. He sent apologetic eyes a young girls way as Dean barged past her aiming for two seats in the front row, where he now found himself sat divested of his coat and scarf, waiting for the play to start; a mixture of happiness and something he couldn't quite place waging a war within his stomach.

For some unknown reason Sam didn't feel safe, the way he usually did whenever he was with Dean. For some unknown reason he felt as if . . . . . . . as if he was being watched, a feeling he had only felt one time before. He squirmed around in his seat, looking at all the faces surrounding him trying to find the source of his discomfort, yet seeing nothing but the brightly smiling faces of the children, and the loving looks of the parents. Turning back, Sam thought he saw the curtain that draped down to the stage move over in the corner, his eyes fixing onto that spot in case they moved again yet nothing happened.

As the lights dimmed slightly, Sam couldn't suppress the shiver that ran the length of his spine, or the growing unease that settled within his stomach. He contemplated asking Dean if they could leave, his unease beginning to terrify him; but he had seen the look of pride, of happiness that had crossed his brother's face as they had entered. Dean had done this to cheer him up and had thought he had succeeded; how could Sam be so selfish to want to burst that bubble? Instead he planted a fake smile across his face and tried to relax. As the curtain began to rise he couldn't help scooting over as close to Dean's side as possible and leant into his warmth, he knew he was being silly, that nothing could happen here, that Dean was here, that Dean would keep him safe, but that unease refused to be dimmed.

Dean had felt an immense sense of pride as they took their seats, this was just what Sam needed to start getting better, a small break away, a little bit of normality, a distraction from their poorly furnished home. He settled back into his hard plastic chair, surprised to find himself looking forward to the show. As they waited for curtain fall, Dean's good mood began to falter, dampen slightly, as he sensed a change in Sam's demeanour. Looking down he wondered what he was feeling as he watched Sam sit there smiling. Thinking he was imagining things he ignored the twinge of apprehension he was feeling and concentrated on the stage before him as the lights dimmed, and the curtain began to rise.

Dean jumped slightly as Sam squirmed closer to his side, practically burying himself there, that bad feeling prickling his mind again resulting in his attention veering from the stage, his eyes beginning to scour the crowd and surrounding area looking for whatever had caused Sam's anxiety. At seeing nothing to be concerned with he started to relax, yet still kept his senses open as the actors began to take to the stage, his arm automatically creeping around Sam's shoulder, an unconscious attempt at warding off any attack and keep his brother safe.

He felt more alive than he had in a long while as he took to the stage, the time between feeds was too long and the sustenance the last one had produced was waning. He desperately needed to consume again and his sights were set on a goal that would mean he would never have to consume again. He cast his oaky eyes around searching for his prize, the need to get his fingers on the deliciousness overwhelming him, making him forget for a minute that he was supposed to be playing a role. Nobody seemed to notice how his eyes began to change, their normally wooden gaze beginning to gleam as he continued to watch the boy and dream about the riches he would gain once he had tasted.

TBC.

A.N. . . . . . . Well I hope it was okay and that you enjoyed? I hope that I can continue with the quick updates once I return to work tomorrow, but I ask for forgiveness in advance if I fail. Thanks again for reading, Peanut x