A.N. I'm sorry for the short delay, you all! I was entertaining family. But…since I skipped a day of writing this…I have to skip a day in this story, if you didn't notice. Oh…and thanks to all my reviewers! (in the next chapter I will recognize the reviewers I appreciate the most by name) Anyways…enjoy and Happy Holidays!

…

December 18th

School had let out all the kids for the holiday break that day. Now, normally, that would make Dean start whooping with ecstasy. He hated going to school. To him, it was a massive waste of time.

But instead of cheering and jumping around with joy, Dean was frantically running as fast as his smallish, preteen feet could carry him to the apartment.

He couldn't even feel the nipping chill of the winter air as he sped down the sidewalks; even though he was wearing only a pair of jeans and a leather jacket.

Even though his nose and the tips of his ears were burgundy from the cold, Dean couldn't feel it. All he could feel was his heart slamming against his chest and his ears pounding with the sound of his own thoughts…

"Where's Sammy?!"

When Dean walked out of the fifth grade trailer, Sam was always supposed to be waiting for him by the benches. And that day, when Dean sprinted out of the prison-like classroom, Sam was nowhere to be found.

Immediately, Dean panicked. It was his job to keep track of Sam and take care of him. No one really had to tell Dean, but still, everyone did.

"This is your baby brother, Dean. He's yours to love and take care of." The voice of his mother echoed in his head.

Even though he was only four at the time, he remembered Sam's birth vividly. He remembered the first time his mom let him hold his new baby brother, he remembered how hard he tried not to smile when baby Sam fell asleep in his arms, he remembered when his dad let him give baby Sam a warm bottle of milk, and he remembered when Sam's little, chubby fingers enclosed around his thumb. He remembered what it first felt like to be a big brother.

"Take care of Sammy, Dean," his father would remind him every day before he and Sam would go off to school all by themselves.

"I can't let Mom, Dad, and Sammy down," Dean had thought to himself when he finished frenetically searching the entire school grounds in vain…finding no trace of his baby brother.

That's why Dean was running home. Though he was terrified of his father's reaction when he informed him that Sam had gone missing, Sam's safety was the first priority…and if he had indeed been taken by someone…or something…John Winchester was without a doubt the best man for the job.

Dean reached the apartment building, not even pausing for breath as he shot up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time as his electric blue, plastic book bag bounced up and down on his back.

Dean screeched to a halt as he reached his apartment door and began banging on the door. It was rather hard on his knuckles since they were so raw from the cold.

"DAD! PLEASE! OPEN UP!"

Dean heard the sound of someone rushing to the door and with due speed, the door swung open to reveal John Winchester. Concern was etched in his face.

"Dean?! What's wrong?!" there was a definite note of fear in his voice.

"Dad…" Dean was breathless and his freckled cheeks were ruddy from exertion. "Sammy…is…"

"What?!" John pulled his elder son into the apartment, closing the door behind him. "What about Sammy?! Spit it out, Dean!"

"Can't..." Dean took a deep breath, blinking back the bitter tears that swam in the corners of his eyes. His dad was disappointed in him. "I can't find Sammy anywhere!"

All color drained from John's face and the look of concern in his eyes had transformed into one of dread. "You looked all over the school?" John's voice was very soft, as if he couldn't manage any louder.

Dean nodded slowly as a tear squeezed itself out of his eye and slid steadily down his cheek, clinging onto the underside of his jaw line. "Do you think that…that a de-…?"

"Don't even say that!" John hissed, gripping his son's shoulder. "C'mon…we'll…we'll think of something."

John led Dean into the festively decorated living room. The tree was standing there in all its glory with Sam's handmade ornaments dangling on their own little branches. The fire was lit and the radio was playing Michael Jackson's version of "Santa Claus is Comin' to Town".

John slammed the black, bulky radio with his fist. The high-pitched, childish voice of Michael Jackson was cut off.

"This is exactly the thing I've been trying to avoid!" John growled. "Now those damn demon bastards might've taken Sam and are using him as damn bait!"

Dean gasped, though used to his father's language (where else would he get it from?), he was unaccustomed to his father saying something so scary…like the possibility of Sam being taken by a demon and being used as bait. Dean had to sit on the couch…his head was feeling dizzy.

"Would…?" Dean gulped. "Would that really happen, Dad?"

"Who knows, Dean?" John sighed, moving over to the couch and sitting down next to his eldest son. Unlike with Sam, John always felt more comfortable talking to Dean. He felt like Dean was strong enough to accept the truth. "I hope not…but we never know."

"But…" Dean was trying desperately to be brave, though it wasn't easy. He was only eleven, after all. "It'll be all my fault if those stupid…" Dean made a face, as if trying to remember something."I mean… if those damn demon bastards…hurt Sammy. It'll…be all my fault."

"No it won't, Dean," John said firmly. "You were in class when this happened, right?" Dean nodded. "It couldn't possibly be your fault."

"But takin' care of Sammy…" another tear trickled down Dean's cheek. "Comes before dumbo school. If he's dead…"

"He's not dead," John reassured his eldest son, though not entirely believing the words that he said.

"I…" Dean's chin quivered as another tear fell. "I never told him that…that I loved him…"

"Daddy! Dean! I'm home!"

Dean and John sprung up from the couch at the distinct sound of the chirpy, almost babyish voice of Sam.

Both sprinted over to the entrance to see an alive, unharmed, and happy Sam standing there.

"Hiya!" Sam greeted his family, taking off his puffy, lime green coat and hanging a black scarf and hat on the coat hanger.

"Sammy, goddamn it!" John went over to his youngest son and hugged him fiercely, as if he'd never let go. He even lifted Sam into the air to press him up against his chest. "Never…" John roughly kissed Sam repeatedly on the top of his head."Never…ever…run off like that…again."

"I love you too, Daddy!" Sam hugged his dad's neck and kissed his stubbly cheek, pleasantly surprised by his father's physical displays of affection.

John put Sam down beside Dean, too relieved to scold. "Dean…what was it you wanted to tell your brother."

Dean gripped his little brother's shoulders violently and turned him around so that they were looking at each other face to face. "We thought you'd been freakin' eaten by a demon! You stupid little bitch! You had me worried sick!" It was almost amusing to see these words coming out of the mouth of an eleven year old.

"I'm sorry, Dean," Sam frowned, kissing his brother lightly on the lips. "I didn't mean to make you sad. I see you've been cryin'…"

"Crying?!" Dean exclaimed, a little overly defensive as he wiped away at his cheeks and vigorously rubbed his eyes. "That's stupid! I haven't cried since I was a stinky little baby!"

"Your eyes are red…" Sam started.

"I wasn't cryin'!" Dean snapped. "Now tell me where you were before I smash you to a pulp!"

"Oh!" Sam palmed his forehead. "I almost forgot!"

"Forgot what?" John asked. "Tell us everything…start at the beginning."

Sam beamed, pleased that his father and big brother were showing so much interest in his day. "Well…Mrs. Davis…"

"Not her again!" Dean groaned.

"Hush!" John clapped a hand over Dean's mouth.

"Well…" Sam went on. "She took our class out on a walk…and while we were walkin', I saw somebody who looked dirty and sad. She was holdin' an icky ol' fryin' pan and holding it out to people. Mrs. Davis said that no one should be sad or alone on Christmas, so I tried to go say hello, but Mrs. Davis wouldn't let me. So, I went over after school…"

"Sam!" Dean moaned.

"And I have someone I wantcha to meet!" Sam went over to the open door and stuck his head out. "Cora! It's okay, now! You can come in!"

"Who's Cora?" Dean asked.

Dean's question was soon answered when a skinny girl timidly made her way over to the doorway. Sam immediately took her hand and pulled her into the warm apartment.

"Daddy…Dean…" Sam nodded at each of them. "This is Cora."

Cora was probably about fifteen, give or take a few years. She was about 5'4 and she had an incredibly small frame. She was extremely skinny with all her bones protruding out due to malnourishment. She was wearing a tattered brown coat at a torn, blue skirt with multicolored patches sown on it. Cora also was very dirty and her waist-length blonde hair was exceptionally matted with little bits of leaves tangled in it. Dean also noticed that she wasn't wearing any shoes. Her feet were black from filth and blue from the cold.

"Cora?"Sam tugged on the frayed sleeve of her coat. "Say hi! Don't be shy!"

Shy was an understatement. Cora's inky black eyes were shooting all over the room and she was shaking violently as if there were an earthquake tremor beneath her feet. She was wringing her raw, red hands nervously.

"Hello, Cora," John finally said slowly.

"Hi," she replied almost inaudibly.

"Sam?" John stiffly turned to his younger son. "Can I talk to you for a minute?" John pulled Sam aside into the kitchen before he could reply.

"Yeah?" Sam was still grinning from ear to ear.

"You…" John held up his finger. "You can't just bring homeless people into our house!"

"Why not?" Sam frowned.

"Because…" John let out a huge sigh. "Some of them can be dangerous…"

"But Cora's really nice!" Sam protested, pouting.

"It's just…" John was trying to resist the power of Sam's pout. "It's just…"

"Can she have some dinner with us?" Sam pleaded. "She's so hungry and sad!"

"No!" John was horrified. "Who knows if she's in her right mind?!"

"But Dad," Sam's lower lip went out even further. "Helping people is what Christmas is all about! Can't we just let her eat with us once?"

John sighed, defeated once again. "Fine! Fine! But you make sure she leaves when she's supposed to."

"Yay!" Sam hugged his father's legs and rushed out back to the entrance hall. John followed gingerly behind.

Dean was eyeing Cora quizzically as she looked down.

"Cora!" Sam exclaimed, rushing over to her, taking her hand once again.

"Laddie?" Cora put her free hand on Sam's shoulder. "I think I'm not welcome here. I 'spose I understand. I'm used to it, I says." Cora had a very thick Irish accent, which both John and Dean found peculiar.

"But, Cora!" Sam smiled warmly. "Daddy said you could have dinner with us!"

"But I's not fit to be dinin' with sucha fine lot of folks like you." Cora shook her head, smiling weakly and taking her hand away from Sam's.

"Cora?" Dean timidly stepped up. "Why don'tcha have some dinner with us? You look awfully hungry." Dean couldn't believe what he was doing, but there was something inside him that ached with pity as he looked upon the poor girl only a few years older than he. What if he were as hungry and cold as Cora? How would he feel?

"You're very kind, you are," Cora nodded, swallowing back tears. "But…"

"Please, Cora?" Sam looked up at her with his puppy-dog eyes. "I'm gonna microwave some turkey sandwiches all by myself! And we can even have some gingerbread men!"

"Gracious!" Cora jumped back. "You be eatin' little men?!"

Sam giggled with delight. "No, silly! The cookies are shaped like people!"

"Aye, I see," Cora nodded, smiling slightly.

"So…will you?" Dean inquired.

Cora sighed. "Alright. If it ain't too much trouble…"

…

"I swear on my mum's grave! I've never had nothin' that's tasted better!" Cora exclaimed, her mouth full of gingerbread.

John chuckled and Sam beamed with happiness. Dinner with Cora hadn't been at all what John had expected. Once she got over her shyness, Cora proved to be a very lively, bright girl. And the Winchesters would admit that it had been the best meal they'd had in a long time.

"I made em' all by myself!" Sam informed her excitedly.

"Hey!" Dean protested. "I put gumdrops on one of em'."

"Well aren't you a helpful lad?" Cora pretended to be impressed. "Did you also help by lickin' the sugar off the bowl?"

Everyone laughed heartily at Dean as he pouted. And eventually, he joined in, though he was the butt of the joke.

"You all have been so nice to me. I wish I had somethin' to give you folks." Cora said wistfully after the laughter died down.

"But you have!" Sam chimed in.

"And what would that be?" Cora raised her eyebrows.

"You!" Sam got up out of his chair and sat on Cora's lap.

Cora's chin began to quiver and she bit her lower lip. Soon, tears began pouring out of her eyes and she had to put her face in her hands to cry.

"Cora?" Sam was worried. "What's the matter?"

Cora let out a sniff and a choked gasp. "You're like a lil' angel, laddie…bein' so sweet to a wretch like me."

Dean got up from the table and brought over a box of tissues, handing Cora one. She took it gratefully.

"I'm sorry," Cora blew her nose. "I'ma just not used to havin' anyone bein' kind. I don't have any family to speak of."

Dean put a hand on her shoulder as he imagined the horror of having no one. Having his mother die was enough…but losing everyone? That would truly be hell. He couldn't even fathom the pain she was feeling.

"Hey, Cora?" John stood up as well. "If you want to stay a little longer…"

"No sir," Cora shook her head. "I've prob'ly had enough good for one day."

"Cora?" Sam snuggled closer to her. "I know you don't have any family…so…could I be your little brother? I've always wanted a sister…"

"Of course, laddie!" Cora kissed Sam's head as another tear slid down her cheek.

"Why don't you come over for Christmas?" John suggested.

"Are you sure?" Cora's eyes were wide.

"Of course," John smiled, very unsure of what was changing in him.

"I'll be there!" Cora clapped her hands together from excitement.

Sam went over to John and whispered in his ear,

"It feels good, doesn't it?"