Author's Note: How do like this? Two updates in one day! So, for today, we have missingmikey to thank for this prompt which was, "How about Sam shopping at a crowded mall and trouble ensues (fire, shooting ...)" Thank you for this prompt! I truly enjoyed writing it. Please enjoy! The 2nd prompt will be up later tonight!

"Christmas, Christmas time is here, and Christmas songs you love to hear

Thoughts of joy and hope and cheer, but mostly shopping, shopping, shopping!"

—Straight No Chaser, "The Christmas Can Can"

Christmas time for the Winchesters has always been a low-key affair.

In their youth, it had been a time where their father was lost to either his alcohol induced way of dealing with his grief or he was simply gone on a hunt. That left Dean to provide some Christmas magic to Sam—a feat he usually accomplished by stealing presents when he had been younger and then later, actually buying gifts with some money he earned from hustling pool. They had never done the traditional Christmas shopping in the mall. Hell, they never went to malls period!

This year . . . this year was different.

For one thing, it was Dean's first Christmas since returning from Hell—something Sam never thought he would be able to experience with his brother again—and for another thing, Sam felt like his older brother really deserved something nice. Not just a gas station gift, but an actual, perfect gift.

Hence the trip to the mall.

Dean had needed to go to do something himself—Sam hadn't really been paying attention—and once his older brother had vanished down the street in the Impala, Sam had taken the bus and then walked the few feet across the street to get to the mall. It was an impressive building—four stories with a huge glass dome ceiling that was decked out with lights and garlands—and it took Sam quite a bit of time to navigate his way to his target.

"Hello sir." A woman in a nice, white blouse and blue skirt greeted him with a warm smile. Her blonde hair had been piled up onto her head in a bun and she had a strand of pearls around her neck. "How may I help you?"

"I'm looking for this jacket." Sam reached into his jean pocket for the folded up piece of paper that he had managed to stash while Dean hadn't been looking. He opened and showed the woman the $300 leather jacket that his older brother would love. It was perfect for Dean—it was heavy duty enough to wear during the winter, but with all that material, it could easily halt a small knife, something the eldest Winchester would appreciate.

"Ah," The woman murmured. "For you?"

"My brother." Sam replied ad she grinned.

"That's so nice," She remarked and then ushered him over to the left side of the store. "Well, lucky for you, we do have that still available. Right this way—" He followed her around the corner and beamed, thinking about how Dean would re-act when he—

"Nobody move!"

A man in a black ski mask entered the store, a silver gun in his shaking hand. A woman gasped and pulled her daughter against her. The man headed straight towards the cash register and pointed the gun on the teller.

"Give me all your money." The man hesitated. "Now!"

"Oh my god," The woman leading Sam murmured. "Dear lord—" Sam sighed, but stepped towards the would-be robber.

"Hey." He made his voice even and calm, though he knew that this was a risky move. Still, help didn't seem to be on the way and what was he supposed to do? Sit there and watch while this guy, whose trigger finger kept shaking, swing the gun around on a crowd full of civilians?

No. Sam had learned it was his job to protect people from threats—all threats—supernatural or not.

"Back up!" The robber shouted, pointing the gun at Sam. The youngest Winchester obliged and slowly placed his hands up.

"You don't really want to do this." Sam said quietly.

"Oh, yeah? Why?" He racked his brain, trying to remember his Intro to Psychology class that he had taken so many years ago.

"It's Christmas for one thing," He replied. "And for a second thing, do you even know how to use a gun?"

Bulls-eye.

The robber, flustered now, backed up until he was pressed into the counter, yet the gun never moved from Sam, though it was shaking like crazy.

"H-h-how the h-hell do y-you k-know that?" He stammered, freaking out. Sam grimaced. That wasn't good—if he panicked the man, he could accidentally shoot someone.

"Look, you don't want to do this. Put the gun down." Sam told him in his most soothing tone.

"I-I c-can't."

"You can!" Sam insisted. "You can put the gun down before you hurt someone." The robber considered his words and seemed about to do it—

Until the mall cops came running into the store, guns blazing. There was a flurry of moment, but all Sam remembered was the bang. He glanced around the room and let out a relieved sigh when he saw no one was hurt. Good, it had just been a close call then—

"Sir! You're bleeding!" He looked down at the red pool of blood that was starting to color his white shirt crimson. The pain then flared up. The woman screamed for help, but Sam's world went fuzzy. He wished Dean was there—Dean had always made things better.

His last thought before he passed was that he was never stepping foot inside a mall again.

He was never letting Sam out of his sight.

Never ever again.

He had just left to go get Sam that geeky book he had been eyeing in the bookstore in town and not one hour later did he receive the phone call that always sent the worst feelings of fear and worry down his spine.

"Do you know Sam Hagar? You're listed as his emergency contact. He's been shot. Please come quickly—"

So, here he was, waiting for news on his brother condition, secretly planning ways to always keep his little brother in his sight so that incidents like this could never take place ever again. Maybe he could invest in one of those leashes for babies? Though he would definitely need a bigger one consider Sam was a Sasquatch—

"Family of Mr. Hagar?" Dean rose immediately from the chair and the doctor crossed across the crowded waiting room to him. He was an older man, bald and in his 40's, but he had an air of experience.

"How's my brother?" The man smiled at him warmly.

"It's really quite lucky," He explained. "The bullet missed his heart and instead lodged above. He has a bit of a recovery ahead of him, but the surgery went well and I'm optimistic that he'll make a full recovery."

"Can I see him?" The eldest Winchester asked, feeling the need to assess his brother's condition for himself.

"Of course, this way." He motioned for Dean to follow him and the two disappeared behind the double doors and made their way through the confusing corridors of the hospital. Sam's room was the last on the left and Dean silently entered it, pleased to see that Sam was already awake and was sitting up.

"Dean." He greeted, clearly relieved to have his older brother in his sights.

"How'd you manage this one, Sammy?" He questioned with a sigh. "I leave you for an hour and you get yourself shot."

"I was trying to talk him down, he didn't mean—" Dean's eyes widened at that revelation.

"Wait, you mean you tried to talk to the crazy gunman—?"

"He wasn't crazy, Dean." Sam interjected.

"Dammit, Sam, you know better!" He cursed, pacing the room.

"So, what? I was just supposed to sit by and let this guy hurt someone else? No, Dean, I couldn't—"

"It's not worth your life, okay?" He murmured, the anger leaving his body as quickly as it had entered him. He understood Sam's logic—his brother was still a goody-two shoes after all—but he just wished that it didn't have to be like this. He had just gotten back to Sam. If he lost him all over again . . . Dean wouldn't know what to do. It's not like you could sell your soul twice, right?

"Hey," He faced Sam, his younger brother's eyes full of concern. "I'm okay." It was his way of saying he was sorry and Dean accepted the apology as he sat down in the chair slowly.

"What did the doctor say?"

"Besides the fact that I'm lucky?" Dean chuckled—luck had rarely been on their side. "I can go home tomorrow so you wanna go tonight—?"

"No," He mumbled quietly, feeling the need to make sure that Sam was okay, that he had the doctor's blessing to leave. "No, we've still got some time."

"Okay." Sam said, sensing there was something behind his brother's expression, but choosing to let it drop.

"Good." Dean replied as he leaned fully back into the chair.

It wasn't how he would've chosen to spend the evening, but Sam was okay and Dean himself was back. Sure, he still felt the aftereffects of Hell every night and though he wouldn't choose to confide in Sam with that particular piece of info, for the moment Dean felt pretty damn good.

"Hey, Dean?"

"Hmm?" He lazily opened his eyes and glanced at his brother.

"Thanks."

Dean just beamed, thankful that he was back because this—Sam's smile, his mannerisms, just everything about him—was what kept him going in Hell.

Sam was what kept him alive.

"Stop being a girl, dude."

Love you too, Sammy.

Sam just chuckled.

Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed this! So, I'll have the other prompt up tonight. Please look forward to it!