The Nutcracker.
Summary. . . . . . . Whilst trying bring a sick Sam some Christmas cheer, Dean unwittingly places his brother in danger.
Disclaimer. . . . . . Still only loaning from the genius that is Kripkie.
A.N. . . . . . . The writing bug has bitten down hard again and I find myself being able to get chapters done quicker than I normally would. I just hope that it doesn't wear off soon! In the mean time I'll try to get as many out there as I can, as quickly as I can. Thanks as always for reading, catch you later, Peanut x
Stopping by the doorway he had come through earlier he waited. He'd learnt, over the many decades he had been this way, how to manipulate the curse he was under so that at times he could move around looking almost human, those times though lasting at the most an hour, and the effort it took to create the ruse debilitating him, taking away all thoughts, feelings and movement for precious hours, sometimes even days afterwards depending on how long he used it, which was why he didn't use the ability that often; this time though he knew the exertion would be worth it, that his goal would be in sight and the nightmares that had started all those moons ago would finally be laid to rest.
Concentrating hard he pushed his powers to the forefront and felt the sharp tingle that signaled the change begin to take a hold of him, not worrying about the strange sight he made, as the thoughts of everyone around him were still on the two boys. He despised the fact that even though now slightly more human, he still had to wear the costume of the puppet he had become, wishing for the gold, and rich furs and robes he had been forced to give up, knowing though that once he had taken the powers of the boy, all those precious treasures would once again be his.
As the waitress began to work on the boy, and knowing he wouldn't be able to hold this shape much longer he moved swiftly, deftly though the crowds of curious bystanders towards the place he knew they would take his prize next. Plans already forming in his mind as to how he would take out the annoyance that was the protector, and how he would get his prize out of the building and to the safe place where the ritual to break the curse that held him could be done without interruption. The sadistic smile that had so chilled the boy growing in intensity as pleasurable thoughts of what was to come were created.
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Dean couldn't believe Winchester luck. All he had wanted was one day of fun and laughter for his brother, yet that day had turned into a nightmare. First Sam had been so scared of something at the play, and now this. Why couldn't they just have one day of normal without all the drama and hurt and pain that they had been given today? Why couldn't they be the ones shopping for gifts that they didn't really need, instead of being lucky if they recieved a couple of dollar store gifts? Why couldn't they be the ones who would sit around a table festooned with enough food to feed a small third world country, instead of rationing what little food they did have just in case their Dad was late getting back? Why couldn't they be the ones who would be safe, and warm, and happy wrapped up in new Christmas clothes, instead of freezing their asses off in hand me downs, or charity shop clothing in some crummy run down cheap ass house? Tears sprung into his eyes, the wetness spilling over thick lashes to trickle down his cheeks, as these thoughts roared through his head, adding to the frustration that Sam was hurting and that he couldn't help him, sending him into a state of shock, his whole body shaking as he stared listlessly into space, retreating so far back in his mind he didn't feel a hand clamp down on his shoulder, or the same hand begin to guide him away from the diner, away from the pity stares, away from his brother.
His brother. His brother. The person that meant more to him than anything else in the world, they were taking him away from his brother. As that thought entered into his head, Dean began to return to the now, shaking off the hand that gripped his shoulder and looking frantically around for his sibling, eventually seeing him up ahead laying strangely, eerily still on a gurney that was just about to go through a door that exited the mall and led to the corridors that connected all the stores back doors. All previous thoughts were forgotten as Sam vanished from his sight, the doors swishing closed blocking his view of the one he was to protect at all costs. Taking off at a run, avoiding all hands that tried to stop him, Dean pelted through the wooden barrier desperate to get back to his brother, to make sure that he was alive. He caught sight of Becky leading the cavalcade of security and paramedics towards the mall's small first aid room, shouting at the waitress to stop, to wait up, thankful when she did and Sam's warm hand was once again ensconced in his.
As Sam was settled on the rooms only bed, Dean began to fight off questions that were thrown at him. Where were their parents? Where did they live? What number could their Dad be reached at? What had happened at the diner? The constant pressure creating a headache to form, as he fought to give answers that wouldn't draw suspicion. There was only their Father, their Mother had died a long time ago. They lived on Chigwel Court. Their Dad was traveling back from a business meeting and couldn't be reached, but would be back before supper. He didn't know what had happened at the diner, they were just eating and the next minute Sam couldn't breathe. He must have given the right answers, or at least ones that pleased the older people for now, as he was soon left alone with reassurances that Sam would be okay and would wake soon, and that when he did he would be okay to go home.
Sitting in a hard plastic chair, Sam's hand once again resting in his, the guilt that he had been able to push aside reared it's ugly head again, slamming harshly into Dean's heart causing his breath to falter as sobs began to fall from his lips, and tears from his red rimmed eyes. He hung his head in shame over both his and Sam's hands, as his failures consumed him, leaving him weary, his eyes battling to stay open; a battle they soon lost as they slid heavily closed and sleep soon overtook him, making him miss the door to the room begin to open.
To Be Continued. . . . . . . . A.N. . . . . . . Mwah, ha, ha! Evil cliffie writer strikes again! I hope that you enjoyed the chapter, I know it'short again but I have given you two chapters in two days. That has to count for something right? Will be back soon with chapter 7, Peanut x