Author's Note: Hi again! Welcome to today's second chapter! The prompt for this is by LotRia who asked for, "Sam decides to decorate their motel room on Christmas Eve while Dean is out and unknowingly picks up a box of cursed tree decorations. Beaten up by ornaments and hogtied by Christmas lights... so not how the night was supposed to go. Hurt/defenseless Sam and protective big brother Dean to the rescue." This prompt brought a huge smile to my face when I first read it. I hope you enjoy it! Set in season 1. Please enjoy!
This was going to be perfect.
Checking the window once more to make sure his brother had indeed taken the Impala out to do a food run, Sam beamed. This was their first Christmas back together since the Christmas before he left for Stanford. At school, Sam had spent Christmas by himself. Jess had always invited him to come home with her, but Sam had never felt comfortable doing so. Jess' family was sure to be one of those families with the perfect Christmas tree with the perfect amount of lights on it and have the perfect Christmas dinner. He hadn't wanted to go because, honestly, he missed his own family and their crappy excuse of Christmas. He had missed getting a pathetic excuse for a tree and than frantically decorating with whatever stuff they had managed to get their hands on. He had missed the weird presents and the take-out they used to get for Christmas dinner.
Most of all, he had missed his brother.
He often wondered whether Dean had missed him as well during Christmas. Had he thought about calling Sam just like had thought about calling Dean? Had he wanted to be with Sam at all or had he felt betrayed with Sam's choice to go to school? The questions remained unanswered and weighed uncomfortably on Sam's mind.
Hence, this surprise.
It was Christmas Eve and Sam finally had the motel room to himself, which meant he could finally decorate, and surprise Dean. He had been lucky to come across a box of Christmas decorations at a garage sale a few states over. They had been incredibly cheap and the youngest Winchester had certainly gotten the bang for his buck. There were ornaments of all sizes, shapes and colors as well as multi-colored lights to go up on the tree Sam had managed to stash outside when Dean had been in the shower. Now, after finally bringing in the tree and placing it against the far right wall, Sam could decorate in peace.
"Okay, let's see." He stuck his hand into the box and dug out the strand of lights. Wrapping them around the tree, he plugged them in. They glowed brilliantly and Sam grinned like a kid. He had forgotten how much he enjoyed this. It had been four years since the last time he had decorated a tree. Practically giddy with joy—God, he was acting like such a little kid!—he pulled out some red, sparkly candy cane ornaments and placed them on the tree. Stepping back to check the tree, he decided that more lights were needed. He reached down into the box.
Only, the lights were gone.
"What?" Sam mumbled to himself, looking around. He didn't remember taking them out, but then again, he'd been pretty distracted by all the ornaments and it's possible that he could've overlooked them—
Faint beeps from the EMF meter break the silence in the room.
Sam freezes and glances at the table where Dean had tossed the meter earlier after they finished their first interview. Realization dawning in his eyes, Sam watches as the small arrow rises rapidly from the green to red. Before he has time to do anything, the strand of lights wraps itself around his arms binding him. Struggling, the youngest Winchester is pulled back by the invisible force operating the lights towards the tree. Ornaments jump off and shatter, their glass cutting Sam. He hissed in pain and using all his strength managed to get one hand free. Pushing himself towards his phone, he managed to hit speed dial one before the lights have him wrapped up once more.
"You miss me already?" His brother asked cockily.
"Dean! I need—" Sam called, but whoever is operating the lights clearly doesn't like this turn of events and soon the strand of lights around the tree uncoiled itself before wrapping around Sam's neck, pulling tight.
"Sam?" His brother barked, concerned.
"D'n." His lungs were beginning to burn as his oxygen supply was violently cut off. Blood dripped off his hands and onto the carpet, but Sam doubted that blood loss would be a big concern if Dean didn't arrive soon. His body shifted, instinctively fighting for survival, but if anything, it seemed to make the lights tighten. He can't breathe and he can't escape.
He was going to die here.
Darkness clawed at his vision and before Sam can even attempt to explain to Dean what was occurring, he fell into unconsciousness.
Over the years, there have been a lot of crazy things that Dean has seen.
Storming into the motel room, guns blazing and seeing Sam lying on the floor with strands of Christmas lights tied around him? Yeah, that tops it all.
"Sam!" He exclaimed because dammit, Sam wasn't moving—he was pale and just lying there and God, was that blood? "Sammy!" Ornaments are hurled at him and Dean quickly dodges them. Glass shatters and the EMF wails. He fires some rounds of rock salt, dispelling whatever force has locked onto the decoration and chanting a basic banishment spell, he buys himself enough time to get to his brother. "Sam?"
No reaction, not even a faint stir.
Dean's heart plummets and panic claws at the edges of his sanity. He places two fingers on Sam's neck and waits.
There's no pulse. The panic goes in overdrive and dammit, the lights are starting to move again, but Sam's heart isn't beating and he's not breathing and how the hell is Dean supposed to deal with all of this?
"Stay away from him!" Dean roars, firing more salt rounds. The spirit gone once more, he turns his attention to his younger sibling. "Sammy, please." Tears are starting to sting behind his eyes, but who cares? Sam isn't breathing and Dean doesn't know what the hell he's supposed to do now.
A voice sounding suspiciously like his missing father pierces through the fog of initial grief. Training instinctively takes over he begins to do compressions, willing Sam's heart to beat once more, willing him to breathe. One, two, three—
The EMF meter warns him that their friendly neighborhood spirit is back, but all of Dean's focus is on Sam. He can't stop now—
Then, right as the lights are about to dive at him, Sam gasps and as if the spirit is almost startled by this turn of events, the lights freeze, giving Dean the second he needs to fire another salt round. Checking Sam over quickly, he hauls his brother to his feet, determined to get him the hell out of this room and away from the stupid decorations.
"D'n?" Sam wheezes, voice sounding absolutely awful and Dean winces at it. "What—?"
"Not enough time," Dean snaps. "We've gotta get out of here. Hang on, okay?" Sam nods and dutifully tries to walk, but ends up swaying where he stands. Wrapping his arm around him, the older Winchester half drags Sam outside. Placing Sam safely in the Impala, he faces the room, holy water in one hand and a stronger banishing spell in the other.
"Dean," His younger brother's voice is stronger. "You can't go alone—"
"Just stay put." He orders.
"Dean—!" He shoots his sibling a confident smirk and then storms inside.
The spirit goes down almost quietly. All it takes is a splash of holy water over the decorations and then the spell and soon the room is spirit free.
"Son of a bitch," Dean murmurs, running a hand through his hair before surveying the damage—the bloody ornament pieces and the broken shards of glass littering the floor—before finally packing the rest of their stuff up. "Rot in hell, bitch." He curses as soon as everything is packed. Tossing their duffels into the trunk, he jogs to the passenger side of the car to check on his brother. Angry red lines from the cord are clearly visible on his neck and Dean knows it's going to be at least a week before the pain will go away and his voice will sound even remotely normal. The cuts, on the other hand, aren't that deep, but will need to be cleaned when they reach the next motel.
"Gone?" Sam asks him drowsily—his ordeal clearly having drained him.
"Yeah," Dean replies. "You okay?" Sam mumbles something that his older brother takes as a yes. Getting into the car, Dean then puts the motel in the rear mirror.
Good riddance.
"Supposed to be perfect," Sam whispers sleepily. "First Christmas back." Dean understands. He had been out trying to find out where he could get some good Christmas food for later that night, only for Sam to call him before he had a chance to grab anything.
Thank God Sam had managed to get to his cellphone.
"Dude, when has anything we've done been perfect?" Sam chuckles at that before he winces. "But Sammy?" One lazy eye meets his gaze. "I'm glad you're back."
The smile Sam gives him is reward enough for indulging in the chick-flick moment.
They drive, just content to be with each other.
Author's Note: The third story for today will be up later tonight! Please review! Thanks!