Author's Note: Hi there! I'm so happy to be sharing this chapter with you all! So, this is from AshleyMarie84, who asked for, "Set in season 8- Things are still tense for the boys, so Christmas morning pretty much goes unnoticed by Dean. Sam of course doesn't feel the need to remind him, what does it matter anyway? After all the things Dean said about him under the influence of the spectre, he doesn't even think his brother cares about him anymore. Later that day somehow Dean finds out that Sam has been hiding a serious illness from him (heart condition is my fave) that he got diagnosed with shortly after Dean vanished to Purgatory. Instead of Sam telling him about it when he got back he just let Dean believe he didn't look for him, when in fact, he spent most of his time in the hospital. Cue extremely worried, mother-hen, and guilty Dean, while still being pisssed at Sam for not telling him. Lots of hugs and cuddles ensue (just gen brotherly fluff). Maybe show a couple days worth of Dean fussing over him." Thank you so much for giving me a prompt that lets me deal with season 8! I, like a lot of other people, do not enjoy the boys fighting and this helped me out a lot! I hope you enjoy! Please note that I am neither a doctor nor a medical professional. My information here probably isn't completely correct, but just go with it, okay? This is set after "Southern Comfort". Please enjoy!

Once upon a time, Christmas used to be the best day ever.

It used to be a day full of funny presents, a nice meal and laughing at cheesy Christmas movies until dawn. It had been a day where he and Dean forgot about whatever trouble they were in—be that an impending deal or the apocalypse—and just enjoyed their company. Christmas had been special to Sam Winchester. The day held the promise of finding solace in his older brother's presence and gave him a chance to let down his guard. It was half mini-vacation, half party.

It had used to be almost magical.

This Christmas morning held nothing but unspoken barbs and saddened gazes. They had no decorations up in their current motel room and no stupid movies on TV. While Sam had gotten his brother a gift, he wasn't sure whether he should give it to Dean or not. Especially considering how his brother didn't even seem to know it was Christmas. He went about the room, methodically packing his clothes in his duffel. It was time to leave this stupid town and find another hunt, one that didn't include specters of any kind.

Dean's hardened eyes glared murderously at him as he pointed the gun at his chest. Voicing rising in fury, his brother spat,

"Benny has been more of a brother to me this past year than you've ever been!"

Dean's words haunted him this Christmas morning, sucking any joy that Sam had used to feel and replacing it with melancholy and frustration. He had thought Dean was dead. He had been all alone in that warehouse and he had remained hours after the last battle, looking for a clue or a lead or a trace that would lead him to his brother.

He had found no such thing.

And then, he had driven—no destination in mind, just the open road. He had realized in that moment that Crowley had been right. He had no one in the world. Everyone he knew had died. There was no one to turn to ask for help, no one to give advice and offer him a friendly hand.

There had just been Sam and the open road.

He chanced a glance at Dean, but his brother was too busy tossing his shirts into his duffel to notice. Sam sighed and headed to the door.

"I'm going out." His voice was soft, barely above a whisper.

His older brother said nothing.

Sam stepped outside and began to walk. A few minutes of clearing his head might help him recover. So, he put one foot in front of the other and just began to head down to the corner of the street.

It wasn't like Dean would miss him anyways.

Dean cleaned the motel room with a focused efficiency that he had perfected during his stay in Purgatory. He was the ultimate hunter now—sharp sense, perfect reflexes and not to mention that he had become pretty adapt with a sword—and though all he could think about was hunting, a voice that sounded suspiciously like his conscious piped up about how he should set things right with Sam. Specter or not, Sam had heard some pretty harsh things come out of his brother's mouth. True, he believed that his little brother had deserved to hear some of it—ditching your only family for a girl? Who the hell did that?—Dean did admit that maybe things had been taken too far.

Then again, Sam was a big boy. He could handle himself. He obviously didn't need Dean around to—

A flash of white caught his eye from Sam's duffel. Stopping, he dropped the shirt he had been handling on the bed and crossed to his brother's bag. Cautiously glancing at the door, he stuck his hand down into the bag and pulled out what looked to be prescription bottle. Eyeing it oddly, Dean titled it so he could read the label—maybe Sam had gotten migraines again—and was even more taken aback when he finished.

This bottle wasn't to treat migraines.

It was medicine to treat high blood pressure and nestled next to that bottle was a container full of aspirin. Even more confused than before, he dumped out his brother's duffel looking for some clue as to what the medicines were for. There had to be some reason, right? Or maybe they weren't even Sam's? Yeah, his name was on both bottles but stranger things had happened and it wouldn't be the first time—

"Dean?"

He froze. Sam stood in the doorway, mouth open in almost a comical pose and Dean honestly wasn't sure what to say. Before he had a chance to open his mouth, Sam was there, pushing his older brother aside and grabbing the bottles.

"What are those?" He finally managed to ask. Sam glared at him. If the situation wasn't so grave and the air so full of anger, Dean might've made a joke about it.

"They're medicines." His little brother avoided, stuffing both bottles into his jeans.

"No shit, Sherlock." Dean retorted. "Sam, seriously, what are they—?"

"Why the hell do you care?" The youngest Winchester hissed, eyes flashing with fury. Dean grimaced. Yeah, he got it. Sam was pissed at what the specter had said about him. It wasn't like Dean had been proud of those remarks himself.

"If you're sick, you're going to need to rest—"

"So, I'll be ready to go on the next hunt with you?" His little brother asked with a mirthless chuckle, thought sadness flickered in his gaze. "When you will understand that eventually I'm not going to go hunting with you anymore?" It was a whispered, pained question and one that he didn't want to answer. Hunting without Sam? It would be like Stanford all over again and pissed as he was for Sam abandoning him in Purgatory, he wasn't about to give him up without a fight.

But that was a matter for a different time. There were more important issues now.

"What do you need to take those medicines for?" Sam's face hardened and Dean resisted the urge to throttle his brother until some sense got knocked into that thick skull of his.

"Dean—" The pained expression covered his brother's face and sadness now ruled in his eyes. The eldest Winchester's heart dropped as dread filled him. He had seen that expression on Sam's face before and it only meant bad things.

"Sam, please."

Maybe it was own whispered plea that did or maybe it was sheer desperation that was written on his face. Either way, Sam sat wearily down on the bed and fished out the two bottles.

"After you vanished," He began slowly. "Things happened."

"Mr. Winchester?" Sam nodded shakily before sitting down in front of Doctor Wellman's desk. He was a kindly, older doctor in his mid-50's and he had graciously agreed to see Sam at anytime after he and Dean had taken care of a ghost problem for him. That had been years ago and Sam had been worried the good doctor wouldn't remember him, but the grin lighting up on his face told a different story. "What seems to be the trouble?" There were no questions about where Dean was or what he had been up to recently and Sam was grateful. Honestly, life without Dean had passed by in a haze, until the problems had started. His chest had begun to ache and sometimes it felt like someone was trying to drive a spike through his heart. He described how he could no longer run without feeling like passing out and how even sitting, his heart was pounding. Dr. Wellman listened and nodded, occasionally making notes, before finally saying,

"I'd like to run some tests."

Sam just nodded.

"Mr. Winchester," Dr. Wellman frowned at him and Sam knew in that moment that he was screwed. Something was seriously wrong and God, he was going to die, wasn't he? He was going to die and never find Dean and never—

"Yes?" He breathed out, forcing himself to focus on the here and now.

"I've gotten the results of the test and I'm confident that you have atrial fibrillation." Sam just tilted his head to the side, confused. "It's quite common actually. You see, in a nutshell, your heart beats irregularly. In your case specifically, your heart beats too fast and this is what is causing your pain." Dr. Wellman paused, checking Sam's shell-shocked reaction. "Now, this condition is quite manageable and we're lucky we caught it when we did."

"How'd I get it?" Sam murmured, still in shock.

"The only thing I can tell from your tests is that your high blood pressure may have something to do with it. Without family medical records, it's hard to tell though." He shrugged apologetically. "Sometimes, it simply runs in the family."

Family.

He'd lost all his family. Never to this though, but hey, maybe the universe was trying to surprise him. You don't get to be killed hunting! You get to be taken out by your own heart!

Great. Just great.

"And is it . . . ?" His voice trailed off, unable to finish his thought.

"It is quite treatable," Dr. Wellman said with a grin. "In fact, putting you on some aspirin along with some medicine to curb your high blood pressure should help you within the next few days. I'm also going to prescribe you some medicines that should help bring your heart rate down and back into a suitable range."

Sam relaxed slightly as Dr. Wellman scribbled on the prescription pad.

"But, Mr. Winchester?"

Sam met his gaze.

"Yes?"

"I'd advise against hunting. If your heart rate were to spike again, it could lead to a stroke or even congestive heart failure should you ignore treating it."

Sam just nodded mutely.

Every fiber in his being was screaming to go find Dean, but his heart . . . what good would he be to Dean like this? He had no leads and no idea where to start and now with his heart messed up, he had no choice but to hold off the search.

Just until he got things under control.

Just until then.

Dean's first instinct was to storm outside the motel room and scream up at the sky. He wanted to curse someone out for putting his brother through so much. All Sam had ever wanted was to be normal and what had he gotten in life? Nothing but hardship and pain.

And Dean . . . hell, he had added to it.

"Dean?" Sam stared up at him with those puppy dog eyes and Dean swore for a second he saw baby Sammy asking him to read a bedtime story to him again. "Did you hear me?"

"Yeah." His voice was clipped and Sam winced back from the hidden fury in it. Dean grimaced though at his little brother's reaction. He wasn't angry with Sam—he could never be angry with Sam for this—but he wouldn't be able to deny that his way of dealing with worry is to get angry and beat something up. "Were you going to tell me?" That's what really pisses him off though—that Sam didn't even feel comfortable enough to come out and explain what had happened to him. Dean had been blaming him for not looking for him when in reality Sam couldn't physically do so. God, what kind of brother did that make him!

"I wasn't sure." Dean nodded thoughtfully. Fair enough. It wasn't like he was being exactly straightforward about what had happened in Purgatory. He had secrets of his own still.

"Alright," He mumbled, pushing down the anger and worry and fear. "What do we need to do?"

Sam just gaped at him.

"We?" He echoed, unsure if he had heard his older brother right.

"Yeah," He replied. "Do we need to go see a doctor here or something? Do we need to go get some tests done?" Sam still seemed too shell-shocked to reply, but finally snapped out of it.

"Uh, no, not yet," Sam mumbled. "As long as I take my medicine and try not to put too much strain on my heart, I'm usually okay."

"Usually?" Dean repeated, eyes narrowing in suspicion that Sam was holding something back from him.

"Some days are worse than others." Sam made it clear that Dean wasn't getting any more explanation besides that and the eldest Winchester let it drop.

"Okay, no more hunting then—"

"Dean!" Sam exclaimed, still confused and in shock.

"Not up for discussion, Sam." Dean growled. "I'm not risking you."

That shut Sam up quickly.

It was almost surreal.

Dean was acting like old self again—like Purgatory had never happened. He was researching Sam's condition while simultaneously having his little brother to bring him up to speed on whatever had occurred while he had been gone. He was checking out local doctors and debating whether they should head to a specialist to see about getting a second opinion—not that they didn't trust Dr. Wellman, but there might be other options out there. Sam just sat there and reveled in it all. All he had wanted since the moment he had found out about his condition was his older brother to make everything okay. Amelia had tried and she had eased some of his fears, but she had never truly known him—not like Dean did.

And seeing his brother taking notes off whatever website he found stirred something up in Sam, something had buried since the moment he had found out. He felt like it was okay to come undone. He had been strong ever since he had found out about the danger of what his problem could do and he hadn't let himself give in to his fears and purge them from his system. No, he had done what Dean would've done and buried them down so deep that they had been left to fester inside him.

But, Dean was back now. Dean would help make things right.

Without even noticing until liquid fell onto his hand, Sam suddenly placed his hand to his cheek. Quickly, he wiped away the silent tears only for more to fill their place. Dean was still too invested into his work to notice, but eventually, he looked up and saw the state his little brother was in.

And then, like he had done so many years ago, he simply walked over to Sam, wrapped his arms around him and let his brother cry, knowing that he was there for Sam.

It was the best Christmas present that Sam had ever received.

"You've taken your medicine?" Dean asked as he packed the rest of the stuff into his duffel while Sam sat on the bed by the door, eager to get out this room. After Sam's revelation, Dean had placed them both on lockdown until he had mastered everything he had needed to know about Sam's condition. He was now well versed in both hypertension and atrial fibrillation and while he would still grill Sam's next doctor, he felt confident enough to put this city in their rear view mirror.

"Yes, Dean."

"You check your blood pressure?" His little brother gave him a classic bitch-face and Dean suppressed a chuckle.

"Yes, Dean."

"What about—?"

"I've done everything, Dean." A pause as Dean registered his little brother's exasperated tone. Then, with a smirk, he asked,

"Dude, who taught you to be such a smart-ass?" With a fondness that he had thought he'd forgotten to know how to muster, Sam replied with a grin,

"My brother."

And for the first time since this whole ordeal began, Sam believed that they would make it. After all, he wasn't alone in this fight any longer.

His big brother was back.

Author's Note: Definitely one of my favorite chapters and I hope this gives everyone a little bit of hope while watching season 8. Hang in there everyone! The boys will have to stop fighting eventually! Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it! Please review and request—just as long as it's not Christmas requests, that is. Thanks!