Author's Note: Last call for prompts! They will be closed on December 1st! I look forward to writing all of them. They are super fun! Here's the first one from oooPENNYWISEooo who asked for, "Sam tries to decorate the bunker with some old decorations he found, only to realize a cursed object is among the ornaments." I set this in early season 8, post "LARP and the Real Girl". Thank you so much for this awesome prompt. It was really fun to write. Happy Holidays everyone! Let the barrage of Holiday Hurt!Sam commence!

"There is an ornament

Lost inside the night

There on a Christmas tree

With a thousand lights."

—Trans-Siberian Orchestra, "Ornament"

The bunker held many secrets.

From the twisting corridors that led to rooms undiscovered, to the sheer amount of lore that were on the countless bookshelves—there were new things to discover every day. Sam could probably weeks combing every inch of the place and still discover new things later.

But with Christmas closing in, he had only one thing on his mind—decorations. He had to make Christmas special for Dean. It was no surprise that their relationship had been somewhat strained over the preceding months and while they had started repairing their relationship, Sam wanted to do something special for his older brother. Something to make him smile, make him laugh and get rid of some that burden he carried around on his shoulders.

One night to just forget everything grave and have a normal Christmas.

And normal needed Christmas decorations; something that Sam was sure the previous owners had stored somewhere. After all, they packed everything away in boxes and if they kept things as obscure as "scrolls from 5th century Greece", Christmas decorations had to be somewhere. Finding them would be tricky, but the youngest Winchester was up to the challenge.

If it were for Dean, he could do anything, after all.

And find them, he did.

In a box pushed towards the back corner of a closet in one of the numerous hallways, Sam found the old wooden box full of colorful tinsel and glass snow globes and even, at the very bottom of the box, an ornate ornament, golden and round with sparkles in the shape of a snowflake. As Sam picked it up and held it in his hand, he felt a jolt through his system, an almost electric shock.

"Weird." He remarked and then, without giving it a second thought, he put it back in the box and grinned, ideas for decorating swirling in his mind's eye.

Dean would be thrilled.

By the time Sam was done with it, the bunker was decorated like something out of a Hallmark movie. From the picture perfect tinsel on the bannister of the stairs, to the crackling of wood burning fire where stockings were hung on the mantel—it was so picturesque.

"Sam?" Dean's voice boomed as the front door shut and Sam couldn't help but grin.

"In here!" Sam called, positioning himself to the side of the fireplace so as to not obstruct his older brother's view.

"Sam?" Dean sauntered into the room, the Impala's keys dangling from his fingers.

"What do you think?" Sam inquired, unable to contain his excitement. Dean had to love it—Sam knew he loved it—but he couldn't wait to see his older brother's grin light up his face.

Instead, Dean's brows furrowed.

"Sam?" Dean questioned.

"What?" Sam interjected. "You don't like it?" The youngest Winchester glanced at the decorations. Was it too much? Maybe he had gone a little overboard, but Dean loved that.

"Sam, you here?" Dean called, a tinge of worry in his voice.

"Right here," Sam replied grouchily. "If you don't like it, you could just say so—"

"Sammy!" Dean yelled, moving down the hall. "Sam, where are you?"

"Dean, I'm right here!" Sam shouted, reaching out for his older brother, "Why can't you—?"

His hand went right through Dean's shoulder, like it had never existed.

"What?" He held his hand up to his face. It appeared normal but as soon as he reached for his brother again, his hand went right through.

"Sammy!" His older brother continued his search, unaware of the youngest Winchester's plight. "Sammy, where the hell are you?"

Sam Winchester was a ghost, trapped in the bunker.

As his brother continued to search for him, Sam did the only thing he could think of—research. He was obviously under some sort of spell or enchantment. He hadn't died—he hoped—or been on a hunt with a witch recently, so that left a few other things.

A hex bag for one, or a cursed object of some sort.

He had to retrace his steps and figure out what exactly had gone wrong. If he did that, he could hold the panic at bay. He could figure this out—he would figure this out—and once he did, he would finally get to relax with his big brother.

Time to start back the beginning.

"Dammit."

Of course, of course, it would be the Christmas ornament. The weird tingle, the otherworldly glow of it in the firelight—all trademark signs that he'd been holding a cursed object.

"I'm an idiot."

Dean had left, taken the Impala on a quest to go find his little brother, completely unaware of Sam's plight.

Which left Sam to destroy the ornament. Should be easy, for once, all Sam had to do was grab the ornament and break it—

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." A silky voice purred.

Sam spun around to see a pale woman in an ethereal blue gown. A garland of roses was in her chestnut hair and as she grinned at him with peach lips, he couldn't help but wonder what kind of creature he was seeing. She was barefoot and the bottom of her dress floated upwards, hovering an inch or two above the ground.

"Hello, Sam Winchester."

"Who are you?" He growled, ready to fight her should the situation warrant it.

"I'm a spirit." She answered, curtsying.

"A ghost?"

"A spirit," She repeated, "Of Christmas."

"Like a Christmas Carol?" Sam scoffed.

"That ornament," She pointed to it behind him, "It summoned me to you."

"It trapped me here." Sam snapped.

"You are not trapped," She insisted softly, "I just wish to help you."

"Help me with what?" He pressed and she laughed, the sound of it like soft bells.

She reached forward and the ornament flew to her hand. It began to glow, the snowflakes on it shining so brightly that it blinded the youngest Winchester's eyes.

"I shall help you." Her voice rang out and Sam flinched, covering his ears and closing his eyes as he was consumed by it all.

And then there was darkness.

He was a baby in his mother's arms and she was humming the faint traces of a Christmas carol under her breath. She laughed and held him tight and whispered that it was probably too early for that, but she continued to hum anyways. Dean stood next to her, asking if it was his turn to hold his baby brother.

He was five years old at Bobby's standing in front of a glowing Christmas tree as the gruff hunter handed him a wrapped present, much to Sam's delight. Dean stood at Bobby's side, bragging about how he helped pick the gift out.

He was ten and in a motel room with Dean by his side, opening newspaper wrapped presents and thinking it was the best thing in the world.

He was 14 and furious with his father for choosing a hunt over having Christmas. But Dean was there, reassuring him with kind words and a slice of peppermint chocolate pie and somehow, that made it better.

He was 19 and alone in his freezing dorm room, but blissfully normal. He missed his brother.

He was 20 and Jessica was in his arms as the snow fell outside and her parents asked him if he wanted more hot chocolate. It was everything he ever wanted as a kid, but there was still a piece missing.

He was going to lose Dean to Hell, but as they drank spiked eggnog, he could fool himself into thinking they had more time.

Faster and faster the memories spun around him, Christmas being the common theme between them all.

"You see now?" The spirit questioned as Sam snapped back to reality. His head spun as the images faded.

"See what?" He inquired as a headache continued building, pressure burning in his temple.

"You see." She nodded, smiling.

"Are you going to help me or not?" He hissed, head throbbing.

"I have," She murmured, grinning. The ornament glowed faintly in her hands. "Merry Christmas, Sam."

And then, she faded away.

"Sam!"

Sam opened his eyes, sitting up on the couch, the lights burning his eyes.

"In here."

Dean rushed into the room, sighing in relief as he caught sight of his little brother.

"Where the hell have you been?" Dean snapped, kneeling down next to the couch, his hand gripping Sam's shoulder. His brother's face was gaunt and there were dark circles under his eyes.

"I don't know." Sam confessed softly. "How long has it been?"

"Three days."

Sam's gaze widened and he echoed, "Three days?"

"Are you okay? What happened?" Dean questioned urgently.

"There was a spirit in an ornament," Sam began, trying to put the pieces together, "And she wanted to help me."

"Help you do what?" Dean asked.

The memories flashed through his mind and Sam couldn't help but smile.

"What?" His brother pressed.

Sam simply pulled his brother into hug and grinned.

"Thanks, Dean."

"For what?" Dean asked.

But Sam didn't answer, just held his brother instead. Sure, his head burned and ached and he wanted nothing more than to take two Advil, but in that moment, all that mattered was that his brother was here with him.

And that was the greatest Christmas present of all.

Author's Note: Send in your last minute prompts now. They close tomorrow, December 1st. I hope you guys enjoyed this first chapter! I look forward to filling all your prompts. Please review if you have a moment.