The Nutcracker.

Summary. . . . . . . Trying to bring a sick Sam some Christmas cheer, Dean inadvertently places his brother in danger.

Disclaimer. . . . . . Still only playing with those that belong to another!

A.N. . . . . . . . Sorry about the delay in posting, and for not finding time to personally thank everyone for reviewing last time. RL took a hold of me this week, and the site's technical glitches didn't help. I can only hope that the content of this chapter makes up for it. Catch you soon, Peanut x

Hours passed by with John alternating between watching Dean reluctantly sleep, and dragging his tired, weary, and worried body back and forth across the worn linoleum flooring. Caleb, determined to trawl his way through every book and tome he could find until he found the answers, had left again soon after Dean had dropped back off, the remnants of the anesthesia taking the middle Winchester under no matter how hard he fought to stay awake, which left John alone with his thoughts; thoughts that contained nothing but gloom and guilt. As the time ran by, the sky outside the window changing from night to day, John let guilt consume him. How could he have left? He knew Sam was ill, how could he dump the responsibility to look after him on Dean? Caleb didn't need him specifically on this hunt, he could have gotten someone else, so why did he go? Deep down he knew the reason and it ate away at him all the more. It was because he didn't like the memories a sick Sam brought back, or should he say the memories a comforting Dean did. He looked and acted so much like his mother as he offered reassurances to Sam, as he held Sam close offering heat and comfort after a bad bout of nausea, as he coaxed Sam to eat and drink, as he sang to him. That was why John had left, now he could only hope he was given the chance to make things up to his boys.

He was brought out of his mulling, his body instantly tensing, his hand immediately finding its way to his gun hidden in his pocket, as the door to Sam's room was noisily opened, before relaxing. "I could have shot you!"

"Yes, you could have, but you didn't. You knew that anyone wanting to harm either Dean or yourself wouldn't have created so much noise."

"That and I recognized the aftershave you receive every year. I'm surprised that I couldn't smell you from the car lot. You really should stop wearing it Pastor, you wouldn't exactly be inconspicuous in a hunt. How are you Jim?"

Jim walked over to Dean, checking the boy over with his own eyes before offering a quick pray for a speedy recovery. Looking back John's way he finally replied. "I'm fine, I'm more concerned about you. Have you even slept yet?" He watched different emotions cross John's face in lieu of an answer before adding. "You'll be of no use to Dean, or Sam, if you're too tired to help. I've asked the nurses if there is anywhere that you could get some sleep and they recommended the motel across the street. I booked a room and I want you to go and get some rest. I'll look after Dean."

Anger and concern evident in his response, John shot back. "And what about Sammy? Am I supposed to just sleep away the day and forget about him? Whose gonna look after my baby boy? I should be out there looking for him, begging him for forgiveness, not snoozing whilst he's god knows where."

"And do you know where to start looking?" Jim calmly replied. "Do you know how to defeat this Nutcracker? Then what use will you be? You know deep down I'm right John, for once stow away your stubborn pride and listen. Go get some rest. Caleb and Bobby are looking for answers, and you know they are the best at what they do. They know the number of the motel, they'll call you when they no more. The boys need you to be strong."

John knew that what Jim was saying was true, he should rest and gain back his strength, he had a feeling he was going to need it; and he should allow, and trust, Bobby and Caleb to do the research, they were the best and he knew his patience could not stand the long hours of trawling a hunt like this would need. Reluctantly he acquiesced, walking over to his eldest he brushed back the spikes that had wilted and dropped to his forehead, planting a soft kiss on his brow and murmuring words to low for Jim to hear, before standing and moving to leave. "Two hours."

"Five!"

"Three and that's my finally offer."

"Done! You're not to be back here before three hours, and you have to get something to eat also." Jim shouted through a door that was slowly closing.

Ignorant of how tired his body actually was, John had left swearing to himself that he would shower, change, eat and return as quickly as possible, despite the wrath he would receive from Jim; a wrath he had experienced before, and if it wasn't for the fact his child was in danger, would be reluctant to feel again. Things though never go according to plan. Sitting down on the soft, pleasantly clean bed, John had rubbed a weary hand across an equally weary face before placing his elbows on his knees and dropping his head into his hands, sleep consuming him within seconds. He couldn't even remember dropping to his side and bringing his still boot clad feet up off the floor, so dead to the world was his body.

A constant drilling broke through his unconscious state sometime later, John turning away from the noise, his body still craving rest he had been neglecting to give it. But the noise was persistent, penetrating his brain until he recognized it for what it was. The phone. Jumping up, all sleep for now forgotten, he picked up the receiver coughing to clear his throat before answering. "Winchester."

"John, it's Caleb, Bobby's with me and we're heading your way. Be ready for us. We have an idea where Sam could be, we think we know what it is and what it wants, and things don't look good. We have a thought on how to stop what it wants to do, but we don't know how to kill it. We'll be there in ten."

Completely awake now, John strode over to the duffle bag of weapons Jim had left, taking out a few items and placing them strategically around his clothing. Walking to the door, he stopped with his hand on the knob, lowering his head he spoke. "I'll get him back Mary, I promise you, I'll get him back." Opening the door he walked out.

His body shutting down as fever roared within it, Sam could only lie on the cold stone floor, completely oblivious to the horror that stood before him. His trembling had long since abated, a testament to the fact that shock had taken complete hold, and hypothermia was kicking in. His eyes were sunken into their sockets, dark circles stark against the whiteness of his skin, fever spots the only other piece of color in his otherwise sickly pallor. The Nutcracker threw back his head in laughter, his excitement, his lust, growing as the hour drew near. This was going to be so much more simpler than he could have ever imagined, the boy feeding him, making him stronger by the minute, allowing him to start taking human form more easily, parts of him now staying human even when he rested. His face had changed, his jaw still hung loosely, woodenly, yet his eyes now shone, his nose had skin. His fingers and arms were the same, skin and hairs evident in places, wooden fixtures gradually becoming less and less. He stroked the boys cheek again, a chill coursing through him as he felt through fingers that were slowly becoming his own, and not some borrowed limbs, the boy move away from the cold touch. Taking a step back he whispered. "Not long now, and then you can rest for as long as you want." Laughing all the more at the small, sad sight before him he walked away to prepare his alter.

A.N. . . . . . Thanks as always for reading, I hope that you enjoyed? Let me know! Catch you soon, Peanut x