Author's Note: Look at this! I'm actually updating at a semi-early time! So, tonight's prompt comes from, supernaural fan, who asked for, "Sam with appendicitis." This was pretty straightforward which was nice for a change. I hope you enjoy it! Also, a heads up to everyone that left prompts, two days from now, I will be posting in a different order. Prompts that specifically have something to do with Christmas will be my main priority, as I want to get those stories done before Christmas arrives. After Christmas, I will go back to the order I had been following now (first come, first serve). Anyways, please enjoy this chapter! This is set in early season 5.

"Have yourself a merry little Christmas,

Let your heart be light

From now on,

Our troubles will be out of sight."

—Judy Garland, "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas"

Working Christmas is often the easiest shift there is in the E.R.

Everyone is at home, enjoying their family and sharing a meal while listening to Bing Crosby sing and drinking hot chocolate in front of the roaring fire. The E.R. is dead during Christmas—it's almost eerie at times. Most people want Christmas off. Me, I love working Christmas. For one thing, I get paid overtime which is pretty sweet and for a second thing, it's not like I have any place to go on Christmas. My family situation is screwed up. I made some choices they didn't approve of and they threw me out.

But whatever.

It's not like I miss them or anything. I don't. Really, I could care less what they could be doing.

"Dr. Benson?" I spun around and nearly collided in Sharon, the charge nurse. She smirked as she twirled the strand of ornament lights she was wearing around her finger. "I'm going to head to the cafeteria. You want something?"

"No, thank you." She nodded and then vanished out the double doors that led to the rest of the hospital. I sighed and plopped into the one of the chairs that was currently vacant behind the Nurses' station. Pulling out my black hairband, I carded a hand through my blonde hair before quickly putting it back in a ponytail.

"Y'all right, Marina?" I glanced to my side to see Paul Wesley, one of the other doctors here at Sacred Coeur General Hospital. He was originally from Texas and was new to California. My family would've even approved of him had they met him . . .

"Just lost in thought." I answered with a tired grin. He nodded.

"Christmas will do that to do." He replied all knowingly. Then, coughing slightly, he shifted nervously before managing to start, "Look, I don't know if you're, um, busy tomorrow, but if you want—?"

He didn't get to finish for the next thing I knew the door burst opened and a man in a trench coat dragged in a much taller man who was clutching his side and doubled over in pain. I rose from the station and quickly rushed over to them. Catching the other side of the super tall guy, I helped maneuver them to one of the waiting room chairs.

"Paul, I need a gurney!" I shouted and he was immediately gone. Turing to the oddly dressed man in the trench coat, I checked him visually for any injuries. Finding none, I let my focus return to the man currently moaning in pain. "I'm Dr. Benson. I'm going to be treating you okay?" If he heard or understood me, he made no sign of it and I inwardly grimaced. "Sir? What's your name?"

"Sam." The man in the trench coat told me, eyes full of concern, but his facial expression stoic. "His name is Sam."

"Okay, Sam?" There. Sam lifted his head up and fought to meet my gaze. His pain had to be intense—an 8 at least—and judging from the way he was holding abdomen, it was localized. "I'm going to get you treated, all right? What happened?"

"Side," He ground out through clenched teeth, pain lines etched onto his facial expression. "My side hurts." He moaned and I cursed softly in my mind. Where the hell was Paul with the gurney? If Sam had what I thought he had, we were running out of time. The doors opened and Sharon appeared, coffee in her hand. Seeing the situation, she promptly placed the cup on the desk and began to push monitors over to Sam, hooking him up to each. Checking the monitors, I was relieved to see that while his heart rate was elevated, Sam was otherwise doing okay.

"Dr. Benson?" Sharon questioned, waiting for orders.

"Get Dr. Lacey on the phone," I told her urgently. "Surgery needs to be on call."

"Yes!" With that, Sharon rushed out the doors once more.

"Surgery?" The man in the trench coat echoed.

"Just in case," I replied swiftly. Rule #1 of medicine—never worry the patient's family unnecessarily. "Listen, what were Sam's symptoms before he came in?" A blank look and I controlled my rising anger. We were running out of time! "Fever or something like that?" A flash of comprehension dawned in the man's eyes.

"He complained of pain and then vomited," He reported dutifully. "Shortly after that, he came down with a fever and the pain increased ten-fold."

"And you are?" I questioned, nodding to myself as I pushed on Sam's side, eliciting a shout of pain from him. Apologizing quickly, I faced the man once more.

"Castiel." The name was odd, but I didn't have time to dwell on it.

"Okay, Castiel," I stood and directed some other nurses to help transport Sam to the gurney that Paul had finally managed to get his hands on. Tomorrow, I was going to reorganize this department. Honestly, taking that long to find something as simple as a gurney! "Listen, I'm going to take good care of Sam."

"What ails him?" My eyebrow twitched at the archaic phrasing, but I moved past it.

"I believe it is appendicitis, but I have to run a few more tests to be sure." Another blank stare.

"What is . . . appendicitis?" Sharon reappeared by my side.

"Surgery is prepping as we speak." She reported.

"Good, take Mr . . .?"

"Winchester." Castiel completed.

"Take Mr. Winchester down to get a CT scan." She nodded and rolled Sam away and out the double doors.

"Will he be okay?" The man sounded worried—frightened even—and I couldn't blame him. Watching someone you cared about being forced to confront something you couldn't help them face . . . it was a horrible feeling. Placing a hand on his shoulder, I smiled—a real, honest-to-God smile.

"I'm going to take good care of him."

He nodded.

"Dean," Castiel whispered into the Nurses' station desk's phone. Apparently, his cellphone had gotten smashed in some freak accident. Honestly, I hadn't really understood what he had been saying, but I readily offered him the phone. It wasn't like anyone else was going to use it. The E.R. was still as dead as it had been before Sam had arrived. "He's in surgery." A pause and Castiel grimaced at whatever this Dean guy was saying. "You should not blame yourself. You could not have known—" A loud voice cut him off and he sighed wearily. "I would, but my strength is still recovering after getting Sam here." He waited as Dean spoke once more. "Yes. I will call when I hear more." Placing the phone in the receiver, I glanced at the clock once more. An hour had passed since Sam had gone into surgery and I secretly prayed that his appendix hadn't burst. For some reason, I felt connected to Sam and Castiel.

"Is he on his way?" I asked quietly and Castiel nodded his head.

"He will be here within a few hours."

"Good."

An awkward pause passed. With no patients to see, I was left with just Castiel to talk to. Many of the nurses had vanished, tending to other patients on other floors or getting some cake from the cafeteria.

"Tell me, Dr. Benson," Castiel's face was suddenly inches from mine and I almost jumped back, I was so startled. "Why are you working on Christmas?" It was a simple question, one that I could've answered with a million different responses. I could've lied, I could've been vague; but instead, I felt compelled to tell him the truth.

"My family and I . . . we're not on speaking terms." He considered this thoughtfully before once again meeting my gaze.

"Sam has an older brother—Dean—and the two of them are not on speaking terms." Confusion filled my face.

"But Dean is on his—?"

"It took his brother being sick to snap him out of the way he had been acting," Castiel explained. Then, even more serious than I thought was possible, he faced me and added, "Do not let it be that way for you." Ordinarily, I'd have dismissed this with a simple, fake polite smile and a nod. If I were really upset about it, I would've told this man to mind his own business.

As it was though, I knew Castiel was right. He may be a weird guy with a strange name, but he was right.

"Dr. Benson?" Sharon stood in the doorway, a grim expression on her face. "It's Mr. Winchester."

I was up and running before she could even finish.

"So, here's where we stand." I started, forcing my voice to remain steady as I stood at the foot of Sam's bed. He slept on, though the pain lines were evident even though he was in the realm of unconsciousness, and the sheen of fever glistened on his forehead. He was ill—the fever was already reaching 103 and still climbing—and I wondered if this would be the patient that would haunt me forever if I lost him.

No. I wouldn't lose him. Sam Winchester was walking out this hospital alive.

Castiel sat in a chair on the left side of Sam's bed, his eyes never leaving his friend's frame. He had grown increasingly quiet since we had been informed of Sam's complications and I wondered what he was thinking.

"While Sam doesn't have peritonitis, which is a far worse complication from appendicitis, his heart rate is too quick for my liking and his fever is too high." Castiel nodded, ever the silent guardian. "I've administered some antibiotics and hopefully, they'll curb the fever. We will just have to wait and see now."

Another nod.

Frowning, I exited the room, but heard a slight voice whisper,

"Please, Sam. Do not give up."

"Where the hell is my brother!" An angry voice growled and I instantly abandoned my coffee and bolted to the main lobby, where Sharon was attempting to prevent a man with green eyes filled with fury from storming the recovery rooms.

"Sir, please—!" Sharon exclaimed.

"No, you tell me where he is right now, you—!"

"Enough!" I interjected and almost comically, the duo froze, their eyes darting over to me. Arms folded across my chest, I stepped towards them. "Sir, please calm yourself. I don't take kindly to my staff being harassed, regardless of the cause." A bit of my logic sunk in and he sheepishly let his head fall down, almost in a form of apology. "Who are you looking for?"

"My brother Sam—"

"You're Dean?" I questioned softly and he nodded his head vigorously. "I'm Dr. Benson. Follow me then." On the way to Sam's room, I explained what had occurred and how the fever had gone due to the antibiotics. "We still need to a keep an eye on it." Then, we were at Sam's door and Castiel rose from the seat at Sam's beside.

"Dean." He greeted solemnly. Dean didn't seem to notice; however, he had only eyes for his sick little brother. Grabbing Sam's hand within his own, he slowly sat down into the second chair on Sam's other side.

"Sammy." He murmured, summoning both affection and grief in his tone. Feeling like I was increasingly intruding on a private moment, I turned away and walked down the hall.

Castiel said they hadn't been on speaking terms, yet Dean's reaction at seeing his brother like that? It had spoke volumes. There was a clear bond between those brothers—anyone could see that. If they were fighting, I had no doubt it would pass. They would somehow move on.

I just wish it were that simple for my own family.

"Dude, you were crying!" Dean exclaimed.

"Was not." Came Sam's weak retort.

"No, Sam, I remember, okay?" His older brother continued. "You sobbed your eyes out when we saw Bambi!" Castiel tilted his head to the side in utter confusion.

"What is Bambi?" Dean sighed exasperatedly and I took that as my cue to enter the room. Sam had made an almost miraculous recovery in the few hours he had been on the medicine. The fever had broken, his heart rate had returned to normal and the best part was that he wasn't in pain anymore.

"How are we doing, Sam?" I questioned, a small smile on my lips.

"Great." Sam murmured, still exhausted. Still, that was normal with patients who had endured so much stress in the course of one day.

"No pain?"

"None." Dean replied and Sam shot him a weak glare. Dean just chuckled.

"Okay, that's great," I replied, jotting it down in his chart. "At this rate, you'll be able to go home tomorrow." A knowing look passed between Castiel and Dean. "Is there anything else I can do for you? My shift is about to end." I had been so wrapped up with Sam that time had flown by. "Dr. Warner will be looking after you, but he's highly experienced and I trust his judgment."

"Good." Dean remarked and I reluctantly turned and walked out of the room. "Uh, Dr. Benson?" I spun around and caught Dean standing a few feet away from me in the hallway.

"Yes?"

"Castiel told me all the work you did for Sam," His voice was kind and quiet—two things that I would've never described him as upon my first meeting with him. Still, people were great mysteries, weren't they? They always showed different sides of themselves. "I wanted to thank you."

I beamed. I was rarely thanked for my work. Shouted at, threatened? Yes. Thanked? No.

"It was my pleasure." He pulled out a card and pressed it into my palm.

"If you ever need help." Dean told me simply before returning to Sam's room. I glanced at the card—it had only his phone number on it. What had he meant by help? Still, without even entertaining the thought of discarding the card, I slipped it into my pocket.

The next morning, they were gone. Vanished into the night, so the PM shift had reported. They had no insurance according to financial. As I stepped into what had been Sam's room up until a few hours ago, I considered what I had seen and Castiel's words.

Pulling out my cellphone and taking a deep breath in, I dialed the number.

"Mom? It's me, Marina."

I never forgot the lesson they taught me that day.

Author's Note: And there you go! I really liked this chapter as we got to see some Castiel comforting Sam rather than Dean. While I love Dean comforting Sam, sometimes it's nice to have a change. Anyways, please let me know what you think! Review and request please!