Author's Note: Slowly but surely I'm catching up! Just a friendly reminder that I'm not taking prompts anymore. I closed them at the beginning of this month.

Next prompt comes from RRachael who requested, "A tweaked version of mystery spot where Sam and Dean switch spots but instead of Sam dying in random ways they go back and relive old cases and instead of them succeeding, Sam dies. Around the holidays Dean and Sam could investigate a killing easy case (werewolf, ghost, etc.) but when they get to the scene nothing's there. However you want them to meet and vanquish the trickster but brotherly holiday fluff at the end would be awesome." Oh wow, this is a great prompt that would make an amazing multi-chapter story! Sadly, right now I only have time to write a one-shot. I hope it does it justice! So, I guess we'll set this in season three as well. Enjoy!

"I'll have a blue Christmas without you

I'll be so blue just thinking about you

Decorations of red on a green Christmas tree

Won't be the same dear, if you're not here with me."

—Elvis Presley, "Blue Christmas"

It comes out of nowhere, in the middle of some routine ghost hunt, in a haunted house of some no-name town.

One second, Sam is salting the cursed artifact and the next . . .

Sam is dead, lying in a pool of blood, his eyes open and glassy.

Dean doesn't even have to process it before the room goes white and he feels like he's falling down into an abyss and then there's—

Nothing.

He opens his eyes and finds himself in a familiar motel room.

"Hey," Sam calls from the other bed, an easy going grin on his lips, "Sleep well?"

Dean swallows, trying to clear the vision of his baby brother's broken body from his mind. It had just been a dream—a horribly vivid dream—but a dream all the same.

"Fine," He lies, getting up, running a hand through his hair, "Find anything?" He glances around the motel room, wondering why this décor is so familiar to him. Then again, he's stayed in so many motel rooms; they probably all just blend together.

"Aside from the fact Bloody Mary is real?"

Dean blinks a few times, unsure of what he just heard.

"Blood Mary?" Dean echoes.

"Yeah," Sam nods his head. "Remember? All the girls who keep bleeding—"

"From their eyes," The eldest Winchester completes. "Yeah, I know. We ganked her."

Sam tilts his head to the side in confusion, "Dean, no we didn't. We haven't even found her yet."

He spies the date on a news report softly playing on the television. It sucks the breath right out of him. He has no other explanation for it either. He's in the past—two years in the past to be exact.

"Dean?" Sam rises from his seat and places a strong hand on his brother's back. "You okay?"

"Yeah," He's lying through his teeth. "Everything's fine."

Judging from the look in his baby brother's eyes, Sam doesn't believe it, but he doesn't press him. He just goes back to his seat and begins reciting facts about the case that Dean already knows about.

Dean needs to get to the bottom of this—fast.

When they go to confront Bloody Mary, everything occurs just like he remembered it. He's able to anticipate his enemy's next move and with a smirk, Dean actually thinks this might be his easiest hunt yet.

But then Sam is bleeding from the eyes and everything happens in slow motion. He's sprinting towards his brother, crowbar in hand to shatter the mirror, only he's too late.

Sam bleeds out.

"Sammy!" He screams, his heart tearing into a million pieces, but there's nothing he can do.

Light blinds him and he feels himself fall back into the welcoming abyss.

He sits straight up in bed and his eyes dart to where Sam is seated.

"Hey," Sam greets, a bit concerned by his brother's appearance. "Everything okay? Bad dream?"

But Dean can't manage to say anything because the grief is still too fresh and it's boiling up within him and he can barely contain it.

"Dean?" Sam shuts his computer and comes towards him.

The older brother just embraces his brother, holding him tightly.

Sam is alive.

He is alive.

It doesn't take him long to figure out he's trapped in a time loop, relieving he and Sam's biggest hits so to speak. Only, this time, instead of killing the monster, the monster always kills Sam. Violently. Brutally. And no matter what Dean does, he can't stop it and that in itself is enough to drive the oldest Winchester up a wall.

It's his job to protect Sam and right now, he's failing miserably.

And no matter what he does—keeping Sam away from the hunt, trying to drive away from the hunt, stalling—it always ends the same way.

Sam, in a pile of blood, with glassy eyes staring upwards into nothing.

It's Dean's worst nightmare and he can't figure out how to stop it.

It's thirteen revised cases later that they end up in a snowy cave tracking the ghost of a hunter of all things (an animal hunter, not a ghost one) and it's supposed to be an easy hunt. At least, the first time around it was easy, but now, Dean isn't too sure. He's given Sam a gun that he checked three times to make sure it wouldn't jam—two cycles ago, that's how Sam died when the gun failed him—and Dean is careful to make sure he's close to his brother's side, ready to react at a moment's notice.

He's not going to let Sam died one more time on his watch.

"Would you relax?" Sam tells him softly, a smirk on his lips. "You're freaking me out over here."

"I'm fine." Dean says through clenched teeth.

"No, actually," Another voice pipes up and Dean spins around, ready to fire off a shot. "You're not."

A woman is leaning against a tree, her auburn hair blowing slightly in the wind. She's dressed in one of those puffy winter coats and her hands are covered with white mittens. Still, she smiles like a cat that has caught the canary and it sends a chill down Dean's spine.

"Who are you?" He asks and he can hear Sam take the safety off his gun as he backs his big brother up.

"Me?" She echoes. "I'm the one who wanted you to experience your greatest hits." She winks at him and he fires his gun without waiting for more.

"Ouch." She pouts as she re-directs the bullets to the tree next to her. "Wanna try that again?"

"What are you?" Sam hisses and the woman cackles.

"Sammy, this is a private conversation so why don't you zip it?" She snaps her fingers and instantly, Sam is tossed against another tree, rendering him unconscious.

"You're going to regret that!" Dean growls, knowing he needs a strategy to kill this thing. Bullets wouldn't work so he needed to find something else.

"Let's talk Dean, okay?" She takes a few deliberate steps towards him and he stands his ground, gun aimed for her heart even though he knows it won't do any good.

"Why did you put me in this loop?" He questions and she shrugs.

"Orders, really," She answers. "A big bad trickster came to town and told me to do it. He said you needed to learn to let go and really, watching you, I can see why. You are way too uptight—"

"You're a witch then." He deduces and she claps her hands.

"Bingo! I knew you were smart."

"But witches don't take orders—"

She winces a bit, rubbing the back of her neck, "Well, this trickster was very persuasive."

"Let me out of the loop." He orders and she sighs, long and drawn out.

"Look, bear with me, okay?" She begins, now standing face to face with him, the barrel of his gun digging into her chest. "I have to say a few things on his behalf and then poof, we both go free."

"What kind of things?" He asks and she pulls out a few notecards.

"Okay, let's see here," She scans the cards. "You're going to Hell and you need to accept the fact that Sam will be on his own. You can't protect him forever. He will die—"

Dean's heart sputters; his mouth goes dry.

"Stop." He interjects, though it is without any force. He doesn't know who this trickster is, but they know about him—his fears, his greatest weakness, his destiny.

"You saved him once, but you can't do that again. Let Sam go—"

"I said stop!" He roars, but the witch ignores him.

"—and understand that you can't protect him forever. Sooner or later, Sam will die." She glances up from the notecard. "And that's it! Okay, so, I'd say it was nice meeting you, but since you tried to shoot me, not really." She snaps her fingers once more and disappears.

The light returns and before Dean can question anything, he is falling once more.

And then he's back in his time, back in the motel room that started it all, with Sam stringing up Christmas decorations.

"Hey," His little brother greets with a smile. "You have a good nap?"

But instantly, Dean is up and is throwing his arms around his little brother, hugging him way too tightly.

Sam is alive.

Dean still has time.

"Dean" Sam's lowered his voice now, concern pooling in those puppy dog eyes of his. "Everything okay?"

"Never better." Dean tells him and for once, it's the truth. "Hey, I was thinking, it's almost Christmas, why don't we go somewhere nice for dinner tonight?"

Sam raises an eyebrow.

"Really?" He questions. "You never want to—"

"Yeah, well, grab your stuff and let's go. I think I saw a steakhouse a few miles down the road."

Sam places a hand on his brother's forehead and then smirks.

"No fever."

"Ha ha, funny, let's go."

Sam does as he's told and grabs his stuff and Dean wishes he could slow this moment down, could etch it into his memory.

He's going to die in a few months and his brother will be alone. There's nothing Dean can do about that—it was his choice to make the deal and one he made willingly.

But it doesn't mean he's ready.

He wants to stay by Sam's side, wants to protect his brother, wants to laugh with him.

But a few more moments are all he has so Dean wants to make them count.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Sam presses and Dean just grins.

"I'm good, Sammy, I promise."

And together, they walk out the door, ready to forget their troubles if only for the moment.

Author's Note: I love any type of time loop fic so this was a blast to write. I hope you enjoyed! Please review if you have a moment.