It's my first time posting on here, so I hope I've got it right!!

The Twelve Saves of Christmas by Birdie and Janger

Take one overbooked hotel, one very frustrated ghost, and a series of incredibly unfortunate events; set it amidst the seasonal splendour of Bethlehem, Pennsylvania and throw in two exceedingly unlucky Winchester boys. The result, The Twelve Saves of Christmas. Festive DeanWhumpage and CaringSam abound.

It was meant to be a Christmas Treat – something to remember for all the right reasons. However, when you're a Winchester, things don’t always go according to plan. An easy hunt followed by a well-deserved holiday rest, is what it should have been but a little ghostly intervention leads to a run of very painful disasters for our long-suffering brothers. Only a series of miraculous, seasonal intervention stands between them and what could easily be the end of the road.
Will the boys manage to limp along the long and perilous road home, before their festive saves run out?




Thank you to CalUK for the festive banner.

Join us for a chapter a day in the run-up to Christmas and beyond as we follow our favourite boys as they attempt to survive another disastrous Winchester Christmas.

Thank you Mr Kripke for the best present ever, Sam and Dean Winchester! Also, a huge thank you to our own Christmas Elf, Kirsty for the superb beta.
Disclaimer: It all belongs to Mr Kripke – though if my letter to Santa comes true they should be in my stocking on Christmas morning!

Wishing you all a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

Rated K+
Spoilers – None
Characters: Sam and Dean Winchester
Genre: Humour/Action/Adventure



Prologue by birdie (2298 words)

December 22nd 11am - Just outside Bethlehem, PA

"So, we can go see this big, freaky-ass star thing. You'll like it Sam, it's a local landmark. People come for miles just to see it. See the blue and white signs?"

Dean gestured out the window to the highway markers flashing past the windows.

Sam craned his neck and peered in the indicated direction, reading the quickly passing sign with difficulty in the low, winter light.
‘Follow... the Star... to ...Bethlehem!'

He murmured disinterestedly, and Dean frowned at his lack of enthusiasm. Sammy was really not getting his head into this whole winter adventure deal and Dean had put lots of energy into making this a real special Christmas.
Not that Sammy knew that, of course. That was the whole point. It was gonna be a terrific surprise. That was if it all went to plan, but then what was there to go wrong? Dean had it planned down to the last detail.

Well, almost the last detail. They still needed to hit a K-Mart and stock up on essentials but they'd do that once they got checked in at their surprise destination.
This was gonna be a great Christmas.

The elder Winchester pressed on, determined to innervate his sulking sibling.
"So we go see the Star, salt and burn this ghostly Christmas Hiker of theirs, and while we're here, we just maybe catch a glimpse of ‘the' Jonathan Frakes! How cool would that be, Sam? Commander Riker from Star Trek: The Next Generation. He was born right here in Bethlehem. So was Jimmy DeGrasso and ‘The Rock'. They sure have more than their fair share of celebrities, huh?"

Dean smiled happily over at Sam where he slumped dejectedly against the door of the Impala, as they barrelled through the increasingly snowy weather towards Bethlehem, Pennsylvania.

Sam was struggling to see why Dean was so excited about a very routine salt and burn in a declining, backwater steel town but he recognised that Dean's eyes were alight with the fervour of the hunt, and the possibility of a Star Trek/Megadeth/WWF celebrity sighting, and he knew nothing was going to distract his brother from his objective. He was resigned to going along with the stupid road trip, but he just couldn't get buzzed about it. Not even to please his over excited, suddenly Christmas-loving brother.

All Sam could think of was that they could have been settling into the relative comfort of Christmas at Bobby Singer's right now. Okay, the salvage yard wasn't exactly the lap of luxury, but it beat Christmas in some crappy motel again. Sam would have done his famous or was that infamous? egg-nog and Bobby would have grumbled his way good naturedly through incinerating a turkey for them. That was as good as it ever got for him now, since losing Jess. He sighed, knowing he wasn't even gonna have that now because Dean had a bee in his Yuletide Santa hat over some half-assed Hiker ghost.

Happy freaking Winchester Christmas!

Sam wasn't even convinced that this was really their type of job. Okay, this guy, he opened the tattered buff file again, James Tannenbaum - Jeeze, what a name! - had disappeared without a trace on a simple hike with his two business partners and his wife had sworn blind there was something sinister about his disappearance.

However, all the so-called Ghost of the ‘Christmas Hiker' had ever done was chase the odd South Mountain Hiker. He'd never hurt anyone and the only reason to assume it was the spirit of Tannenbaum was that the ghost had only begun to appear the year after his disappearance, on the anniversary of that fateful hike in the spruce forest with his partners.

Sam picked out one of the print outs Dean had packed into the file and almost smiled, just catching himself before Dean could see it. Dean had really worked the research for this one.

It was a grainy shot of three smiling, middle-aged men standing shoulder-to-shoulder outside the steel works. The plant that loomed behind them was large and Sam confirmed in the accompanying text that it was the major employer in the Lehigh Valley region of Pennsylvania.

James Tannenbaum and the Harvey brothers were the founding partners of the firm and had taken 10 years to build it to the thriving enterprise it was at the time of the freak disappearance. The Harveys had fared little better than their ex-partner, the plant foundering just months after the incident, amidst rumours of financial wrongdoings.

Nothing was ever proven but the brothers blamed the crash of the company on their lost partner and left the area themselves shortly afterwards. That was 1995 and the prosperity of the town had gone downhill with the decline of its major employer and the name of Tannenbaum had become anathema in Bethlehem.
Sam pulled another photocopied page from the file and began to read about ‘The Star of Bethlehem'. Yup, for some reason, Dean had been very thorough in his research and Sam found himself warming slightly to the job despite himself.
The Star was situated on top of South Mountain, the same mountain where Tannenbaum had taken that fateful hike, and was the crowning glory for ‘Christmas City, USA'.

The original star had been a wooden one erected by the grateful people of the town to commemorate their founding father, Count Zinzendorf's, naming their town Bethlehem on Christmas Eve 1741. That had been replaced later by a steel construction and later again, in 1967, by the current Plexiglas star. It was a pretty looking thing, even in the tiny, newsprint picture on the photocopy, and Sam read that it was visible from miles away.

Sam looked up from the papers. "Where are we now, Dean?"

Dean swivelled his head on stiff shoulders and glanced over at Sam before looking back to the snowy road.
"Umm, we passed a town a couple of miles back...think it was called Wind Rush or something?"

"Wind Gap?" Sam questioned, unable to keep a slight touch of excitement from his voice.

"Yeah, that was it I think, Wind Gap. Knew it was Wind something. Why, Sam?"

Sam sat forward on the bench seat, wiping at the slightly fogged up windshield, but the condensation and the snowflakes gathering on the outside restricted his view.
"Stop the car a minute, Dean."

Dean raised his eyebrows but Sam's face was earnest and he cruised the Impala into the kerb. "What's up?"

Sam was popping the door as he replied. "Wanna see if it's true..."

Snowflakes blew into the car and Dean yelled "Sam! Shut the damn door."

His plea fell on deaf ears and Dean growled as he followed his brother into the persistent storm. It was cold as he made his way around the Impala and he slammed the passenger door shut before joining Sam where he stood on the road, in front of the car. Sam was holding both hands up to his forehead to keep the fat, white flakes from his eyes as he squinted into the low, winter sunlight.
Dean stood by his side and adopted the same posture.

"Wow!"

Both brothers exclaimed in unison as the twinkling Star of Bethlehem cut through the buffeting storm before them.

"You really can see it from 20 miles away..." Sam's voice held a slight note of childlike wonder.

"Crap, that sucker must be freaking huge!" Dean's voice was equally as wondrous in its own way.

wWw

The rest of the journey to Bethlehem was uneventful; lit as it was by the guiding beam of the Star, and just short of an hour later saw the Winchesters pulling into the parking lot of the swanky Holy Night Inn.

Well more correctly the once swanky Holy Night Inn. Since the closure of the steel mill the hotel had fared no better than the rest of the businesses in town, but that said it was still clearly way better than the standard accommodation the brothers were used to.

Sam peered through the small, clear section of windshield before him and turned to the older man, perplexed.

"Dean. Have you lost your mind? This isn't our sorta place. Rooms must be at least $89 a night. We can't afford this."

"Sammy...Sammy..." Dean placed his hand on his brother's shoulder and squeezed affectionately.

"It's Christmas, bro. It's all arranged. I booked it on line weeks ago. All we need to do is go check in. I thought we'd finish off the spirit real quick and then we can have a few nights relaxing in splendour. And where better to do it than Holy Night Inn? I thought it might make up for some of our more spectacularly crappy ‘Christmas pasts'!"

"So this is what all the manic research and secrecy has been about?"

Dean's huge grin was as infectious as always and Sam found his face cracking into a smile.

"We deserve a bit of R&R, Sammy... and they have pay per view and a Jacuzzi."

Sam laughed out loud, realising how low his brother's expectations were.
"Thanks, Dean, this is real nice..."

"Don't get all chick-flick on me, Sam." Dean smiled as he stepped from the car closely followed by his now excited sibling.

"Leave the bags; we'll have a bus-boy come get them!"

"You really think that's wise, Dean? Considering the lethal arsenal you've got stashed away in there?"

Dean inclined his head, nodding sagely. "I guess you've got a good point there, Sammy. Let's get checked in, I'll come get ‘em once we're settled."

Dean stretched up and threw his arm around his giant baby brother's shoulders and the Winchester brothers headed for their much anticipated and well-deserved luxury.

wWw

"And I was supposed to know you have to confirm freaking on line bookings, how?"
Dean's blood pressure was at maximum mercury levels and he was about to lose what little cool he had left. The best laid plans he had worked so hard at were melting like snowflakes in Hades before his stunned emerald eyes, but he had no intention of going down without a fight.

The desk clerk, however, was a thirty year leisure industry veteran and it was gonna take more than an irate, if particularly handsome customer, to faze him.
"If Sir would just let me explain."

He spoke with exaggerated patience that had Sam biting his lip to keep from laughing. Somehow he had known, looking at the Holy Night Inn, that it was not destined to be their resting place.

"It does say quite clearly on the on line booking form that at peak times we require a confirmation e-mail within a week of the booking. And Christmas is one of our busiest times, Sir. The Star and all, you know."

The clerk tapped unthreateningly, but irritatingly, with his pen on the screen that he had turned so Dean could see. Sensing impending disaster, Dean took a deep breath and turned up the charm to full power.

"Charles..." He schmoozed, clocking the clerks name badge. "So,okay, we can't have the premiere suite with the Jacuzzi..."

Charles shook his head with sympathetic sincerity.

"So what can you offer us?"

Sam watched Charles' eyebrows rise suggestively and the slight blush creep to Dean's cheek and he bit his tongue to keep from laughing out loud.

"By way of rooms, I mean. For me and my brother, that is!"

Dean quickly added in his deepest voice and Charles pretended to hide his disappointment.

"I'm really sorry, Mr Cringle, but the hotel is absolutely full. There's not a single room to be had in the whole Inn. I'm afraid at this time there's nothing I can do to service your needs."

Sam's laughter burst forth at that point, seeing his brother's frank blush at the clerk's amused suggestiveness. He gently pushed his open mouthed sibling out of Charles immediate eye-line, mouthing ‘Mr Cringle' incredulously. Dean shrugged defiantly.

"So, Charles. Can you advise of where in town we might find a room for the next couple of nights?" Sam smiled his best ‘innocent abroad' smile and Charles returned it sympathetically.

"I'm sorry, sir, but Bethlehem is totally full. I know because we have an on line booking tracker which shows us the other hotels of repute in the area so we can help guests to somewhere else when we are full. As I said, though, this is our peak time and everywhere is totally max'd out. I'm very sorry."
The smiling clerk ran his eye appreciatively over the younger Winchester.

"If it was up to me, I'd certainly make room for the pair of you. Indeed it would be my great pleasure to have you both in the hotel."

Sam blushed, ignored Dean's snort of irritation and smiled warmly at the, some might say, over-friendly clerk.

"Are all the hotels on your system, Charles?"

The clerk nodded sadly. "Yes, Sir, they are."

"Motels?" Sam enquired hopefully.

"Well, there's only the one out by the paddocks at the edge of town, The Bethlehem Stables."

Charles was unaware but his nostril had flared in slight distaste at the thought of the infamously sub standard institute.

"The Bethlehem Stables..? You're kidding me, Charles, right?" Sam smiled in astonished delight.

"You're really telling me that there's no room at the inn for two weary travellers, and the only possible option could be a stable in Bethlehem?"

Charles lifted a delicate hand to hide his inappropriate grin. "I'm afraid I am, Sir."

Sam nodded slowly, taking in the incredulous impossibility of the situation. He nodded his thanks to Charles and forcefully took his brother's arm by the wrist. "Come on, Dean."

He pulled the reluctant hunter toward the door.

"Let's blow this joint before the Three Wise Men and an interfering Angel of the Lord appear!"

Dean laughed out loud. "Angel of the Lord? Now Sammy, that's just too fantastical for words!"

Ends

Chapter End Notes:
We hope you enjoy the story. Chapter 1 to follow, tomorrow. Merry Christmas!

The Twelve Saves of Christmas – chapter 2

Dean fairs poorly in an altercation with a holly bush. Anyone want to help dress his cuts and scratches?

Save Number one - Decking Dean with Boughs of Holly by birdie

December 22nd 4.30pm


The forest was Christmas card perfect. Evergreen trees stretched frost-covered fingers towards a midnight blue sky. The stars chased ancient gods and mythical beings through winter white puffs of cloud and the rising moon cast its silvery beams onto the crisp banks of pure, unsullied snow.

There was that soft silence that the frigid carpet of pure white bestows to the world. As the beasts of the forest cuddled up in their hidey holes, munching on a prudently stored acorn or some other unfortunate, smaller beast as they saw fit.
All was peace and icy perfection.

Apart, that was, from the steady moaning emanating from the patch of holly bushes at the foot of the cliff and which flared from time to time into brief bouts of heartfelt cussing.

"Freakin' Holly! I hadda fall into the scratchiest, sonofabitching bush known to man. I couldn't have landed in some sweet smelling, soft leaved, springy-boughed, cotton-wool covered trampoline bush?"

Dean grumbled as he stared with unfocussed eyes up towards Sammy, who was looming even more than usual, perched as he was on the top of the cliff his older sibling had so recently, and spectacularly, vacated.

"Consider yourself lucky, Dean."

Sam hollered, a wry smile of relief playing at the corner of his mouth as he looked down onto his brother's clearly somewhat still intact form.

"Lucky? Oh, yeah, that's my freakin' middle name, Sam! Just another shining example of Dean ‘Lucky' Winchester and his amazing Yuletide Good Fortune!"

"At least the holly broke your fall which is pretty amazing when you think how hard the ghost threw you. I thought you'd have broken every bone in your body when you flew over the edge of the butte like that."

Dean grudgingly acknowledged Sam's point, though Sam was perched too far above his uncomfortable resting place to see his brother's reluctant nod, and the world spun more than a little as Dean craned his neck to look up into the night sky, in Sam's general direction.

"I think the Spirit of Christmas must be looking out for you."

Sam's voice echoed distantly in the frosty air as he carefully began the descent to his brother's aid.

"Sure... sure, Sammy. It's a different kinda Christmas Spirit that I could do with right now though."

Dean mumbled back peevishly, his eyebrows raised in an ironic curve, though his eyes were blinking slowly, closing in fatigue.

"Something spirit based that'd warm my sorry ass...now that'd be lucky."

How could Sam call this lucky? Dean was freezing his ass off. His teeth literally chattering in his head as he tried- again- to pry his trapped leg from beneath the fallen bough that held him pinned so securely to the floor.

He had lost his jacket, well maybe lost wasn't quite the right word, cause he could still see it lodged, fluttering in the steady breeze about eight feet above his head. Flapping away like some giant bird or a weird ass flag, staking his claim to the cliff face. Maybe the Sasquatch could reach it down for him.

The heavy tree limb that he was now so intimately intertwined with had been brought down in his spectacular fall from the cliff high above, and he was in no mood to humour Sam with his festive ‘joy to the world' platitudes.

"Freaking Spirit of Christmas..."

Dean muttered under his breath as he thrashed about, inadvertently becoming further entangled in the prickly holly branches that had saved him from certain death. But still he could find no reason to rejoice in his unanticipated seasonal ‘save'.

The absence of the warm, weathered leather was telling on his shivering form and the holly had exacted its price for his survival. As he had plummeted, the spiky yuletide vegetation had scratched and torn a myriad of softly stinging presents into his delicate hide and he was losing blood and precious heat as quickly as his patience.

"Stay put, bro, I'm on my way down."

Sam's forced cheeriness penetrated the increasingly fuzzy layers that were clouding Dean's awareness as he lay, helplessly succumbing to the hypothermic arms of long forgotten dreams and memories, utterly ungrateful for the miracle of the first ‘save' of Christmas.

‘Stay put, bro? Yeah, like I got a lot of damned choice in the matter? Don't worry, Sam, I'm not headed anywhere, anytime soon...'

"Be careful, Sammy. Watch yourself on those rocks; it's icy as hell up there. I got enough problems without Gigantor flying through the air and landing on top of me."

Dean's words tailed off as his eyelids fluttered, lost their battle with gravity and slid gently closed, shielding his glazed and glassy eyes within the first layers of unconsciousness.

The unnatural quiet was broken only by the faint creaking of branches and the gentle patter of clumps of snow as they fell, dislodged from the recently disturbed boughs above. The occasional grunts and groans of pain had subsided into a softly, rasping snore. In the distance muffled crashes, the snapping of twigs, bursts of non-festive cursing and the tramp of fast approaching footsteps could be heard.

"Dean? Dean, where are you? Ouch! Sonofabitch!"

A particularly loud thud was followed by a string of expletives and a rustling of undergrowth before a heavily jacketed arm forced its way through the low lying branches making way for a sweating, dishevelled head of hair.

"Aah, come on, you gotta be freakin' kidding me here. How many goddamn holly trees can there be? Dammit, Dean, answer me. I know you're round here somewhere."

Sam paused again, trying to get his bearings now he had reached the base of the cliff and flicking his long, snow damp bangs back from his forehead. Hot breath puffed from his partially open lips in quickly dissipating clouds as he peered frantically through the heavily mottled gloom of the sub canopy area.

Glancing upwards, his attention was caught by a large flapping object to his right, squinting into the wavering light his expression changed to one of concern as he recognised his brother's leather coat suspended high above him.

"Why the hell did you take your jacket off, Dean?"

Sam wondered out loud as he pushed a little further into the deep, prickly undergrowth, only to jump as freezing cold fingers took a firm hold of his ankle.

"I didn't take it off..."

Dean's look of disgust purveyed his sentiment of ‘what a dumb-ass comment' far better than actual words did and Sam felt a slow blush flood his cold, pale cheeks.

"It was torn from my superbly toned and much sought after body by Mother
Nature, Sammy."

The explanation was chattered out through lips blued with the cold as Sam carefully detached the worst of the prickly debris from his shivering brother's torn skin.

"See, it happens to me all the time..."

Sam looked into Dean's slightly unfocussed gaze and raised his eyebrows in question as he checked him over, cataloguing his injuries.

"What happens all the time, Dean?"

Dean huffed the air from his lungs out in disgust at his baby brother's lack of understanding of a simple, but irrefutable truth.

"Women, Sammy..."

Dean accepted Sam's arm, finally free enough of the tangling holly to be able to at least sit up. He groaned as he slowly rose, the cold air stinging his lacerated back.

"What about women?"

Sam mumbled as he assessed the damage to Dean's back, his brother having effectively been lying on a bed of thorns. On the snow beneath, the ruby red ‘shadow' of the hunter tattooed the virginal white.

"Sammy! Have you forgotten that talk we had about women?"

Dean's finest crap-eater grin warmed his pale face, and the younger Winchester rolled his eyes but held his tongue.

"What, in particular, about women?"

Sam clarified in his clearest ‘I'm talking to a moron' voice.

"Women..."

Dean replied wincing softly as Sam pulled up his crimson frosted T-shirt to reveal his torn back.

"Women always want to remove my clothes, Sammy."

It was Sam's turn to huff in amusement.

"Oh, you can laugh..." Dean retorted. "But it's just a simple matter of fact, bro. They find me hard to resist and Mother Nature..."

Dean inclined his head, and blinked in a quod erat demonstrandum gesture.

"Well, she's a woman too, so naturally she'd want a piece of this fine ass too."

Sam nodded distractedly as he surveyed the worst of the tears in his brother's hide.

"You're back's all torn up, Dean..."

"Yup. They do that, too."

Dean interrupted and, seeing lack of understanding in Sam's hazel eyes, he clarified.

"Women, Sam. Tear your back up when they're..."

"Enough, Dean!"

Sam shouted abruptly, jolting Dean from his random, fuzzy lecture. The sudden movement tore at the wounds, some of which were reasonably deep, and fresh rivulets of blood dripped to birth new crimson blooms in the brittle snow.

"Ouch!" Dean muttered softly.

"I'm sorry." Sam moved round on his knees.

"Let's get you out of here, Dean."

He made to rise, reaching out to take hold of Dean's arm and help him up.

"Can't... Stuck!"

Dean's words were a little slurry and Sam looked worriedly into green eyes that were gently succumbing to shock and the cold.

"Stay with me here, Dean."

Sam shook his brother's shoulder and the vibration from the movement called down, from the over-hanging trees, a further drifting of snow upon the yuletide hunters.

"That's what I'm trying to tell ya...I ain't going nowhere."

The sudden sprinkle of cold and wet upon Dean revived him a little and he growled.

"Can't just ‘get me out', ya festive fool. I'm stuck, really stuck!"

He gestured angrily at his trapped leg and Sam peered through the gloom to focus on his brother's bough ensnared limb. Recognition and realisation flooded Sam's face as his huge hands made contact with the fallen branch.

"You're stuck!"

Dean rolled his eyes. "No shitSherlock!"

Sam ignored the sarcastic remark and rose slowly to his feet; straddling his brother's recumbent form and planting his huge boots in the deep snow as he strained to lift the large wooden barrier.

"Try... and pull...your leg free."

Sam gasped with the effort and Dean with the discomfort of the manoeuvre, but slowly Sam raised the heavy bough enough for Dean to wriggle and tug his nerve-dead leg from its entrapment.

"Clear, Sam!"

Dean called triumphantly as he rolled away from the fallen bough, allowing Sam the relief of letting it crash back to the floor. Flurries of snow blizzarded around the brothers as Sam reached towards Dean's newly released leg. His jeans were stained with lichen from the tree and frozen to his limb and Dean winced as Sam's firm fingers probed the cramped muscles and bruised flesh.

"Can you feel anything?"

Sam asked and was rewarded with a glower as Dean knocked his searching hand away.

"Yeah, your great mitts all over me! Mind the merchandise, dude."

Sam smiled carefully, so as not to incur further wrath, and leaned in to help Dean rise from his frosty resting place. Frozen blood made icy, cherry-red popsicles of his jeans as he rose; and Sam could feel wholesale tremors of both cold and discomfort as he held Dean steady whilst he found his footing, testing the leg gingerly to see if it would support his weight.

"S'okay, Sammy..."

Dean pushed him gently away and swayed carefully in the softly drifting snow.

"I don't think it's busted."

He took a faltering step and a groan emanated from his bluish lips as his bodyweight made the re-awakening limb buzz with pins and needles.

"Well, good..." Sam smiled. "'Cause I don't wanna have to carry your heavy old ass outta here!"

Dean raised an eyebrow as he looked up into his brother grinning face.

"A little less of the heavy and the old, if it's all the same to you. Anyway Sasquatch, I doubt you'll have to." He stuttered. "'Cause I think I'll d...d...die of hypothermia long before we g...get back to the car."

Sam's face changed instantly; humour being replaced by concern as he noticed Dean violently shaking.

"One minute, Dean."

He was moving as he spoke, his long legs giving him good purchase on the tree as he climbed towards the leather ‘big-bird' caught in the branches.

"Thought you'd never take the hint there, bro."

Dean smiled up as he watched his baby brother scale the sturdy limbs, sending tiny avalanches cascading down with his every movement.

"Catch!"

The heavy jacket flapped with poor aerodynamic grace to the ground; landing unceremoniously on Dean's head, the weight of the descending garment knocking him back on his ass in the snow.

Sam scrambled from the tree and helped Dean to his unstable feet for the second time in 60 seconds, brushing the snow from his grumbling brother as he helped him don the slightly damp coat. Wet as it was it felt good as Dean shrugged the familiar leather around his frozen body and he smiled despite his aches and pains.

"So..."

Sam craned his long neck to regard the top of the butte.

"You ready for a climb? The Impala's somewhere up there, along with one rather pissed off ghost."

Dean tipped his head back to follow Sam's line of sight, swaying precariously as he did.

"Did you find my shotgun up there? I musta dropped it when that crazy mother gotta hold of me."

Sam gestured towards his backpack "Don't worry. I got it right here. Getting a little sloppy there, bro!" He teased gently.

"Ah, bite me! You know, it's strange it didn't follow us, Sam?" Dean continued distractedly as they looked up into the clear, star filled sky.

Sam unobtrusively took his brother's elbow to steady him as he answered.

"Don't think it can, Dean. Seems locked into the patch of land at the cliff top for some reason."

"Ummm..." Dean nodded in acceptance.

"Well, better get going if we're gonna stand any chance of finding the body so we can salt and burn that sucker. It sure as hell wasn't anywhere we looked yet."

Sam nodded in agreement as they slowly started back. They clambered through the cluttered undergrowth for a while, the only sounds their footsteps in the crisp, crunching snow, the snapping of twigs and the odd muttered curse, then suddenly Dean's curious voice cut through the winter silence.

"Sam?"

"Uh huh?"

Sam looked back worriedly at his brother as he replied.

"You okay, Dean? Leg hurting?"

Dean shook his head. The lie springing readily to his lips

"Nah, s'okay."

Sam let go the breath he had been holding in.

"What's up then?"

"It's just that, I was thinking...it was sorta ‘lucky' that I hit the holly. It prickled like a sonofabitch but it slowed me right down as I fell, I guess it did save me."

Sam nodded at his brother's thoughtful contemplations. "As I said, you were lucky, dude. Very lucky."

wWw

High on the butte the wind howled around the spirit of the Christmas Hiker as he stared down on the rescue scene below him with eerily opaque eyes.
His anger roiled within him but he had no capacity to escape the confines of his cliff-top prison and the seemingly endless frustration tore from him, his shrieks of torment joining the song of the gale.

He would bide his time.

They would come back; they had to come back to his hilltop domain, as the only way back to their car was the path he guarded, and he would be waiting for them.

Ends

Chapter End Notes:

A very Merry Christmas to all our Supernatural friends from Birdie and Janger. xx

Excellent start, can not wait to read more. What is that they say about the best laid of mice and men?

Hi Aislinn,
We're so pleased you're enjoying our little festive frolic with the boys in the woods! They're both in for a rough few days, particularly poor Dean!!

We hope you're along for the journey as they begin their disastrous trek homewards, well Impalawards...

Thanks again
Jane and Bev


The Twelve Saves of Christmas - Chapter Three

Sam and Dean remember an earlier Christmas as their struggle to survive in the snowy wilderness continues.


Save 2 - 12 Saves of Christmas

The Holly and the Poison Ivy by Janger


December 22nd - 6.15pm


"As I said, you were lucky, dude. Very lucky." Sam drawled quietly.

"It got me thinking, you know, it's not the first time you or dad have gone on about ‘Mother Nature' or your Christmas Spirit having a hand in saving one of us."

He flicked his eyes up to an increasingly incredulous looking Sam.

"I just wish if something was gonna get involved in giving us a hand, that it'd do it without us getting half killed beforehand."

Sam raised a quizzical eyebrow, halting his progress to look back over a snow-spattered shoulder as his brother limped painfully towards him.

"Dean? Did you hit your head and not mention it to me? Cause you're kinda startin' to ramble here."

"Dude, if I mentioned every place I hit on the way down, we'd still be sitting in that damned bush! No, I mean it, Sam. Don't you remember that "camping" weekend dad took us on? Damn, when was it? Lemme think for a minute."

Dean chewed absentmindedly at his bruised lower lip as he struggled to remember the details. Wanting, needing, something to take his mind off the dull, throbbing ache that was beginning to nag remorselessly at his left knee, shooting pains streaking down his shin with rhythmic discomfort.

Sam waited patiently whilst his brother caught up, he knew without it being voiced that Dean was in far more pain than he was letting on, also knew that the more fuss he made the longer the resistance to his help would continue. So he hung back, silently observing the approaching figure for injuries he might have missed, highlighted as they both were by the distant moon against the cold gleam of the snow.

Dean looked up as he drew near; his breath coming in short measured puffs, a light sheen of sweat on his high cheekbones reflecting the moonlight, casting the rest of his face into deep shadows. He smiled, tiredly.

"Okay, so it's coming back to me now. It was over in Rocky Gap State Park, up in the Central Appalachians." He nodded for Sam to continue walking, shaking off his proffered hand. "Dad'd hired a cabin for a couple of months over the winter, he'd just cleared out a shapeshifter from along one of the lakes and it had gone pretty quiet up there. So he decided the best way for the Winchester's to spend the run-up to Christmas was out on a training exercise."

"It was just before my nineteenth birthday so you'da been about fourteen." He glanced up at Sam's unresponsive face. "Oh, come on, Sam. Tell me you remember!"

Sam's noncommittal shrug of the shoulders spurred Dean to continue, trying to enthuse Sam with his reminiscences.

"So, we left our warm, safe, comfortable cabin, full of provisions for Christmas and headed out into the hills for a five day hike with minimal survival provisions." He chuckled softly, "I remember now, Dad was totally pissed at the pair of us. I was mad ‘cause he'd left me back at the cabin baby-sitting your sorry-ass whilst he'd gone hunting; so, before he came back, we took the car into town and went to the movies. We went to see, what was it? Scream 2”. He shook his head, laughing.

"You gotta remember it, Sammy! You wanted to go see Titanic, but I got the tickets and made you go see Scream 2. Dude, that was one hot film, I loved that Buffy chick, even if she didn't know jackshit about hunting - man I could'a taught her a thing or two. You remember, I bought one of those masks at the end and wound you up the whole way back to the hut!"

Sam rolled his hazel eyes, grinning widely, Dean's easy memories driving away some of his worries. He glanced back and was heartened to see that Dean was managing to match his pace.

"Yeah, it's all coming back to me now! You were such a dick, trying to drive with that mask on... That's why you skidded the car in the snow and ended up creasing it up against a tree!" His eyes widened as the memories returned.

"Dude, there was black ice, it wasn't my fault!" Dean denied hotly.

Sam hid his smile behind his shaggy hair, relieved that his brother was picking up the pace a little.

"Anyway, Dean, I still don't get how Mother Nature saved us then. If I recall correctly, Dad'd gotten home early and was waiting there at the cabin when we got back. He was madder'n hell, that we'd gone into town and then when he found out about the car, he went ballistic, man!"

"Well if you'd shut your cakehole and let me finish."

Dean's lips pouted in annoyance at Sam's interruptions.

"That was why he took us out ‘training' four days before Christmas, he was so angry, he said the only way we'd get a Christmas that year was if we hauled our worthless hides back there ourselves. He drove us out about 40 miles into the mountains, gave us a six hour head start and then we were supposed to practise Escape and Evasion techniques, so he didn't catch up to us."

Recovering his good humour, he gently punched Sam on the arm.

"You moaned from the time we got in the car, to the time we eventually got back to that damned cabin. I'm surprised I didn't tie you to a damned tree and leave you out there!"

"Well, it was you that crashed the car, not me!" Sam returned, voice rising in frustration.

"Oh, quit your bitchin', Sammy. There's no need to go into one of your hissy fits, Princess, it was a long time ago!"

Sam's mumbled curses brought a grin to Dean's pale, scratched-up face as they reached the shallow, slow-moving stream at the base of the cliff.

Sam searched along the gentle banks for his crossing point, easily locating the footstep disturbed snow casting harsh shadows against the moonlit white carpet.

"Oh, man, tell me I don't gotta get any wetter'n I already am?"

"Well, unless you can fly your ‘worthless hide' back up there with the aid of your dancing partner, this time you gotta try slightly more conventional means!"

Sam's wide browed furrowed in concentration.

"Hey, you know, that could be why it didn't follow us down, there's a lot of lore about it, and certain types of spirits can't cross open water."

"Way to go, Einstein. Mind you, the way I feel, I almost wish the freaky sonofabitch would get down here and haul my priceless tail back up there. Come on; let's get this over with. Get your boots and socks off, Sammy. You don't wanna be walking with wet feet in this snow."

"I'm not a kid anymore, Dean. Remember who just saved who from that bush, for God's sake! Come on, there's some rocks over there, I used them on the way over as stepping-stones, you can keep your boots on."

Sam lead the way to where the moss-slippery rocks stuck out of the frigid water. He turned in time to catch Dean's dubious glare.

"You gonna be okay on these, dude? Wait, I'll take my boots off and give you a hand."

"Like hell you will, Sam. Quit fussin' over me. I'm fine!"

Gritting his teeth and scowling in concentration, Dean edged out gingerly onto the first of the slippery rocks. Arms spread out loosely to the sides like a practised tightrope walker; he balanced his way towards the now seemingly distant shore, steadfastly ignoring the shards of pain that rocketed through him every time he placed his full weight upon his damaged left leg.

By the time he reached the last stone, sweat had beaded upon his upper lip and his breath hitched as he sought to control trembling muscles and the black spots dancing before his eyes.

Sam followed one step behind, glancing up just in time to see his brother sway dangerously over to the side. He leapt across to steady him as he stumbled from the rock, knee buckling beneath him as it twisted on the uneven footing.

"Aaarrgghh! Dammit!" He yelped, as Sam's strong arm caught him around his waist. Clutching tightly to Sam's shoulder they struggled the last few steps to shore. Curses filled the frosty air as the shingle shifted below his sturdy boots, twisting his already abused patella.

"Motherfu..." Dean gasped, eyes clenched tightly shut as Sam lowered him carefully on to the snow-topped trunk of a fallen tree. Leaning forwards, both hands clasped around his failing knee, he rocked silently against the pain.

"Okay, Dean. Little something you're not telling me here? Come on, lemme take a look." Sam knelt before his grimacing brother, flashlight in hand, carefully avoiding the dark slush at the rivers edge. He reached for the ice cold, wet denim covering his brothers left leg and carefully eased it above the knee, swatting at Dean's clutching hands as he did so.

Dean leant back, growling softly as Sam's long fingers probed his wounded knee, poking gently at the lividly bruised and swollen flesh. Huffing in pain as Sam lifted his ankle and gradually straightened the limb.

"Leave it, Sam. ‘M fine. Just get me on my feet and let's get up this damned hill!"

"Don't think so, Dean. Here, sit still. I got some bandages in my backpack, I'm gonna strap it up tight and get you a stick to lean on. Nothin's broken, I think it's just badly bruised and maybe twisted a little."

Sam swung the daypack from his broad back and rummaged inside for the first aid kit. "Here, swallow a couple of these. They'll help." He thrust the Ibuprofen bottle towards his shivering, pale-faced sibling.

"Sammy, please? Quit fussing and let's get a move on. I'm starting to freeze my ass off here." Dean complained, but swallowed the proffered tablets as Sam began to wind the elasticated bandage securely round his knee.

"Anyway, Dean. You were telling me about this survival trip with dad." Sam prompted, attempting to turn Dean's thoughts away from their present predicament.

Dean shook his head, as if coming out of a daze.

"Right, yeah, where was I? Okay, so dad had dumped us in the middle of nowhere. It was snowing; damn it was cold up there. We set off at a real good pace; we knew if we made good time we could still get back to the cabin in time for some sorta Christmas. Should'a known things weren't gonna go according to plan."

His brow furrowed as he watched his baby brother finish off the bandaging and stand, towering above him.

"Stay here. I'll be right back." Sam disappeared into the heavily wooded tree line, returning several minutes later with a selection of sturdy sticks. "Well, there's plenty to choose from, dude! Take your pick."

He helped Dean to rise unsteadily to his feet, gingerly testing his weight on the strapped joint.

"Dammit!" He hissed, "Okay, pass me one of those damned things. Come on, let's get outta here."

Together, they began the long and arduous trek up the steep, slippery track leading to the cliff top.

"So, we'd only been out for a couple of hours, trying to make for lower ground so we could cover our tracks, when you slipped and got your foot stuck down a rabbit hole. Man, you were so damn clumsy at that age, Sammy. You'd fall over everything, even stuff that wasn't there!" Dean chuckled softly at the memory.

Sam huffed a denial, making Dean laugh even harder.

"Seriously, dude. That was the year you grew about a foot in three weeks and your head hadn't caught up with the rest of you and thought you could still fit through gaps you could fit through before." Dean's eyes lit up with mirth "You used to hit your head on everything, trip over nothing, and bump into things in a different room. You were like a one man destruction unit."

Sam scowled through his frosting breath. "How times change, huh? Cause it was me pulling your raggedy-ass out from under that bush just now."

"That was so not the same thing, Sam."

Dean raised a dismissive eyebrow in Sam's general direction before continuing.

"Anyhow, I slid on down next to you, to try and pull you out. Ended up digging you out with my bare hands and got covered in poison ivy in the process. Course, we didn't know it then cause all the leaves were dead, but I got it all over my hands, arms and neck where I was digging around in the snow." Dean shivered at the memory, scratching absentmindedly at his forearm. "We got you out, eventually, and didn't think anymore of it. You were still bitchin' cause it was cold, wet and getting dark and you couldn't watch your 90210 or Melrose or whatever it was you were missing."

"Dude, I never watched any of that!" Sam denied hotly.

"Yeah, whatever you say, dude."

Dean stumbled, jarring his leg on the slippery slope, "Ah, Jeez!" He panted breathlessly, sinking awkwardly to the ground, half lying on his ,back clutching at his throbbing knee, face screwed up in pain.

Sam was instantly kneeling by his side, "Hey, easy there, Dean, you okay?"

"Awesome, just awesome." Dean managed to grit through the pain.

"Well, it's about time we stopped for a rest anyway. You wanna sit here for a while?"

Dean shook his head, ripples of pain ghosting across his wan features, "No."

Damn, not good. One word answers from Dean, always a bad sign. Sam hovered, knowing his brother needed time to compose himself.

"Hey, come on, there's no rush, we got all night. Take your time, bro'."

"Just give me a minute, Sam. I just need to catch my breath."

Dean looked up, disorientated, at the dark silhouette of his younger brother that refused to stop swaying against the moonlit sky. Blinking to clear his swimming vision, he held his hand out.

"Hey, Sammy, any chance of a hand up here?"

Sam squatted in front of the recumbent form and reached out with his own chilled hand to tilt Dean's chin up towards the moonlight. Fully expecting, and ready to counter, Dean's stubborn resistance, he again pulled the slim Maglite from his inner pocket.

"Dean, look at me. Just sit tight for a while and let me look at your eyes." He shone the bright beam into his brother's rolling eyes.

"Dammit, Sammy! There goes my friggin' night vision. What the hell's the matter with you?" Dean flinched back from the fierce rays.

"Hey! Just calm down there, Captain Concussion! Okay, Dean, so I think maybe we need to have a five-minute sit down. I don't know about you but I really could do with a break." Sam used the one argument he knew Dean would succumb to.

"It's alright for you; you're not sitting down here in this friggin' cold snow, freezing your tushe off." Dean complained as he gratefully leant back trying to haul himself into a more comfortable position. "But, whatever. If your pansy-assed, college-boy legs need a break, Samantha, then don't let me be the one to stop you."

Dean leant forwards, clutching his pounding head in his hands, gently massaging the temples

"Anyway," Sam sat himself stiffly down next to the quietly suffering form of his big brother, folding his coltishly long legs before him. "Maybe, you can get to finish this story, if we sit still for a little while!"

"Yeah, I guess... Where the hell was I?"

"Well, according to you, you'd just dug me out of a rabbit hole and got covered in poison ivy. So far, I'm not seeing much seasonal saving goin' on, Dean."

"Right, we'd got down from the mountainside and it was maybe the second or third night out, we were making really good time and dad was nowhere in sight. God, it was so cold up there, why do I seem to have spent so much time freezin' my bits off, Sam?"

Dean glanced groggily at the huge form beside him.

"Dean, the story?" Sam prompted.

"Sorry. So, yeah. You were still bitchin'!"

Dean's face took on a far-away expression...

wWw

"Dean, dad's just a total jerk, what's the matter with the man? Most families are at home hanging up stockings and eating candy now. We get a raging psychopath for a father who thinks it's his duty to prepare us for...for god knows what!

"Sam, please? Give it a rest. Look we're out here now, there's no point moaning like a little girl. Let's just get going and see if we can't get back in time to do a little candy-cane action of our own?" Dean scratched absently at the side of his neck.

"Let's find somewhere to hole up for a couple of hours, you'll feel better after some sleep. There's loads of empty holiday cabins up here this time of year, we can bust into one and sleep someplace warm for a change. We carry on at this pace and we'll be back in plenty of time for Christmas Dinner!" He encouraged, pausing to scratch at the exposed skin of his hands and lower arms.

"Come on, Sammy. Dammit, I think I've been bitten, or something, I'm startin' to itch all over."

"Don't call me Sammy, it's Sam! Come on then, quit itching, you'll only make it worse."

Together they headed off towards the distant ridgeline, keeping to the shadowed tree lined roadside.

wWw

"Hey, Dean." Sam whispered. "I've had a look round the back and there's definitely no-one around, no car tracks, nothing! Stop scratching, Dean, what's the matter with you?"

"Sshhh! Come on. Let's just get inside outta this cold. You got your lock-pick, Sammy? Time to put all that training to good use!"

Sam stealthily approached the cabin door, stepping carefully along the boarded veranda, and then knelt briefly by the lock. His brother followed at a distance, keeping a wary eye on the surroundings, listening for any threats.

"And we're in!" Sam exclaimed gleefully after several minutes.

Dean flashed a tired grin at the kneeling figure, "Well done, Kiddo. That's the product of a misspent youth! Come on, let's get inside."

Warily they entered the silent building, swiftly checking all three rooms before closing the main door and heading for the kitchen.

"Sam, make sure all the curtains and blinds are shut before you put on any lights." Dean instructed, remembering the basic rules of breaking and entering he'd learnt so many years before. "Then get that stove on and see if we can warm this place up a little."

"What's up with you doing something?" Sam questioned.

"Nothing... Just let me wash my face and hands first. They're killing me, I musta' got stung or bitten or something out there." Dean paused scrubbing his hands on the rough fabric of his jeans.

Sam turned from checking the last window and reached for a switch.

"Here, let me take a look at them in the light."

Sam struggled to hide his gasp as harsh light flooded the small kitchen area. "Damn, Dean. Why didn't you say something earlier?"

Dean stood swaying as he stared mutely at the raw and weeping blister covered mess at the end of his arms. "Didn't know it was this bad, Sam. They were so damned cold, all I could feel was the itching." Grimacing he reached up to scratch savagely at the side of his neck.

"Hell, Dean. Stop it! Oh god, it's all over your neck too. Dude, it's disgusting, you've turned into some kinda freakin’ leper.” Sam exclaimed, his face showing clearly the horror he felt at the sight.

Dean gingerly pulled up his sleeves and turned his hands over inspecting them more closely. “Crap! I’ve had something like this before. Not as bad as this. Last time I crawled through a patch of poison ivy, but its winter, I thought you had to touch the leaves or something. Man this is killing me.” Again he raked his nails over his inflamed skin.

wWw

"Hell, Dean. I remember it all now. Man you looked like an extra from the Thriller video. You were a total mess. I cleaned you up as best I could and made a huge pot of some sorta tinned stew."

"Yeah, which I couldn't eat cause when my hands warmed up they were so bad I couldn't hold a spoon. I tell you, Sammy, I've been shot, stabbed, burnt and beaten but nothing was so damned irritating as that freakin' poison ivy. If I never touch that stuff again it'll be too soon."

"So, I still don't' get how poison ivy ‘saved' you out there." Sam mused quietly.

"Well, as usual you gotta allow for just a little bit more of the Winchester Yuletide Luck coming into play!" Dean shivered, pulling further into his jacket.

"We eventually got outta the cabin, course there was still no sign of dad. I was pretty groggy by then, we'd found a load of painkillers and some other stuff, so I was fairly out of it. We forgot the Escape & Evasion tactics, in fact we were hoping dad'd come and find us by then."

"That man's got a lot to answer for." Sam grumbled under his breath.

Dean shook his head, "Leave it, Sam. Anyway, we decided to take a short cut through the lower slopes and somehow wandered into a hunting range where they were holding a Christmas Eve Venison Drive, if I remember correctly. It was dusk and we crossed into the line of sight of some crazy-assed hunter who mistook me for a deer. He was very apologetic later and said he'd just fired when he'd seen movement. Made me feel just so much better!"

Sam's face paled visibly even in the moonlight. "Oh, god! He shot you, I remember. You were lagging behind, I turned to wait and you just keeled over, I heard the shot and thought you were dead. How could I forget that, Dean?"

"It was a long time ago, Sammy. We've had so many crappy close calls; I guess the near misses get lost along the way. I was happily mooching along, so high on whatever painkillers I'd mixed with the half bottle of whisky I'd drunk - for medicinal purposes only, you understand - I just kinda blacked out as I walked along. I suppose the cold didn't help either. I collapsed at the same time he fired that shot, the bullet grazed me just along the hairline."

He reached up, tentatively rubbing cold fingers along the old scar.

"Knocked me for six, but if I hadn't gone down first it would have killed me for sure, straight through the heart they reckoned. At least we got a lift home out of it. Dad hit the roof when he came home and found us both there, I was laid up for about a week and a half with concussion, fever and the damned poison ivy."

"Yet another in a long line of Winchester Super Christmases. You wonder why it's not a time of year I relish, Dean!"

"Ah, come on, Sam. Don't go all Ebenezer on me, dude! We had some good ones, too. Anyway, it was dad, after he'd had a bottle of whiskey and got kinda maudlin', who pointed out that if it wasn't for the poison ivy, I wouldn't have still been there. I remember thinking at the time, if it wasn't for the poison ivy I probably wouldn't have got shot at all, but who knows, Sammy? Maybe there is some horribly warped Spirit of Christmas who wants to keep our asses in the game!"

"Well, Dean, that's the holly and the ivy. What's next the mistletoe? I think we should just avoid any more tacky representations of Christmas and just get back up to the top of the hill, smoke that crazy spirit and get outta here."

"I'm with you there, bro! Let's get back to the motel, I'll make eggnog, we can watch a few re-runs on TV and open the spectacular present that I've got waiting for you back in the car!"

"Come on then, time to haul ass. Let's go reacquaint ourselves with the ‘flying nun' up there."

Leaning heavily on the mould speckled stick, Dean pushed himself upright, concentrating on his breathing, bringing the pain back under control.

‘Okay, I'm good. Let's just keep goin' to the top. If I stop I might never start again and I really don't wanna' spend another night out in the freakin' woods. It's just too damn cold!"

Wearily, he peered up into the deeply shadowed path ahead, sighing deeply. ‘Dammit, why isn't anything ever simple? How much more of this goddamned hill can there be?'

"Sam, how much further is it?" He growled, "You need to get your shotgun out in case that sonofabitch is up there waiting for us. I am so not keen to fly over that ledge again, dude."

Ends

Chapter End Notes:

We hope you are enjoying the story so far and are getting into the Christmas spirit for the days ahead! We'd love to know what you think of our little tale.

Jane and Bev x

Hi Aislin.
:cheer Glad you like the story and we'd be delighted to know if you enjoy the rest. Bird xx

I am loving this story. I'm glad that you decided to write and post it. The way things are described enable a clear picture to form in my mind as I read and I can actually see it play out. That flashback to that Christmas with John was great, it sounded like the Winchester luck.

Hey Aislinn, :)

Thank you so much for your lovely comments, particularly that you can picture it all happening, we're delighted that you're enjoying the story and hope that you stay with us for the rest of the long journey home. B)


The Twelve Saves of Christmas - Chapter 4


Sam falls victim to a savage attack from above but is it Mother Nature turning against our ghost-hunting duo, or is it another heavily disguised Christmas ‘save’?





Save 3 - Rockin' Robin! by Birdie



December 22nd 8.15pm



"Okay, so that was way more activity than I needed at this point in time!"

Dean's words emanated from somewhere beneath Sam where he lay, his brother's gigantic form trapping him into making an impromptu ‘snow-angel' in the softly drifting snow. He pushed against Sam's backpack where it, and the lumpy contents, pressed into his chest.

"Lemme up, Sammy."

His muffled voice grumbled into his brother's back.

"Sorry, Dean."

Sam's voice was full of apologies as he rolled gently off of his brother, coming to his knees in the banked whiteness and leaning over to help pull Dean into a sitting position. Their eventual cresting of the hill and subsequent onward journey seemed to be continuing in its own brand of freaky festive frivolity.

"Oooofff."

Dean huffed as he rose, knowing his abused body had notched up a few more peacock hued bruises from the encounter.

"Are ya OK?"

Sam was checking Dean out as he allowed him a moment to get his breath back.

"Yeah, I'm peachy, Sam, but hey that little sucker made a real mess of your forehead."

Dean raised his hands and grabbed Sam's chin, tilting his brother's head forward so he could check out the little beak marks mottling the skin of his forehead.

"Owwh, you got some serious peck-age going on here, bro."

Dean giggled a little as he spoke; swaying slightly where he sat on his cold, wet ass in the snow, and Sam was unsure whether the light-headedness his voice betrayed was due to his developing concussion, or the silliness of the situation.

"Yeah, tell me about it!"

Sam parted his slightly too-long brown bangs and touched the multiple tiny wounds on his forehead, wincing at the specks of blood from the peck marks of the Erithacus rubecula.

"What the hell do you suppose possessed a Robin Red Breast to fly at me like that?"

Sam was genuinely bemused and, if he was honest, a little put out that an icon of Christmas peace like the Robin would, for no apparent reason, turn all ‘Jason Voorhees' on him and attack without warning. They had been scouting the area at the head of the cliff, looking for Dean's backpack where he had abandoned it after pulling out his shotgun whilst hunting the ghost, and contemplating the now seemingly long walk back to the Impala. Their pace slow as, even with his newly acquired crutch for support, Dean's leg was still giving him more pain than he would ever admit, when suddenly the demented little birdie had launched its kamikaze assault from a nearby pine tree.

Sam had been in the lead and had absorbed the brunt of the attack, batting at their ‘not much bigger than a hummingbird' attacker with his gigantic hands. The Robin, however, was doggedly intent on its mission, whatever that was, and had pecked repeatedly at Sam's forehead.

The bizarre attack had been enough to have Sam stumble backwards and straight into an already wobbly Dean. Amidst calls of ‘Watch out!' and ‘What the hell, Sammy?' both brothers had ended up prone in the snow once more and the little bird had flown away, singing its feathered head off.

"They are notoriously territorial you know, Sammy."

Dean was staring a little distractedly in the direction the tiny, Yuletide visitor from Europe had taken, as he pulled in irritation at the cold denim wrapping his legs.

"How could you possibly know that, Dean?"

Sam shook his head in disbelief, causing the tiny rivulets of blood from the bird induced punctures to run together and make crimson snowflake patterns on his bronzed skin. He reached forward as he spoke and pulled Dean slowly to his feet, settling him on his unsteady legs with his makeshift walking aid.

Dean poked a finger into Sam's chest.

"Hey, college boy, I know stuff too. For example, Erithacus rubecula is ferociously defensive of its territory."

Sam stood slightly open mouthed before spitting out.

"I had no idea you were into ornithology."

Dean sniggered.

"Well, it was on the Nature channel. Freaking motel was so off the beaten track it didn't have pay per view so it was that or a re-run of The Bold and The Beautiful.

"Ah!" Sam smiled.

"So you weren't really broadening your mind, it was just that you couldn't get porn?"

Dean nodded, hopping a little on his bad knee as he shuffled his stick to get a firmer footing in the slippery snow.

"Figures. So, shall we get moving before the ghost returns?"

Dean glanced around them, his eyes searching.

"What ya looking for?"

Sam touched his arm.

"Did you find my backpack? I must have thrown it down somewhere near here when the Happy Christmas Hiker jumped us."

Sam scanned about and turned to step forward, intent on the search, only to have Dean grab his arm and pull him abruptly to a halt.

"Whoa, Sammy! Look."

Dean was gesturing with his crutch to a partially hidden object on the path directly ahead of them. The grim, rusted metal contraption was peeking from beneath the drifting snow and was directly on the path they had been following. Had they taken one further step Sam, who was leading, would have trodden squarely on the cold metal of the bear trap.

"Well I'll be! I hadn't even seen it. I would've been ankle deep in those jaws if the damn bird hadn't flown at us."

Dean inched forward favouring his unhurt leg and stared at the grim, brutal teeth of the steel trap as it peeped from its covering of snow.

"You're right, Sammy. If you dickie-bird friend hadn't pecked you into submission I would have been wrestling one severely mangled foot from that sonofabitch trap."

He leaned forward and picked up a short but sturdy branch for the snow and handed it to Sam.

"Spring it. I hate to think of some animal getting caught in it."

Sam nodded and slammed the wood into the jaws. The trap clanged shut, splintering the log like it was made of brittle candy and showering the white snow with fragments of pine.

"Hey, Sam?"

The younger Winchester dragged his eyes back to his older sibling's quizzical gaze.

"Yeah?"

"I may be getting a bit ridiculous here but this is kinda the third ‘Christmas save', isn't it?"
Sam raised a curious eyebrow and Dean smiled as he gestured to the now harmless bear trap.
"Well, if the Robin hadn't have attacked ya, you would have carried straight on and stepped on the trap and..."

"Yeah! Enough Dean, I get it."

Sam felt increasingly queasy at the thought that he might have been seeing splinters of Winchester leg bone where he currently saw toothpicks of pine!

"Wow. Weird or what?"

Dean smiled in his best and most engaging ‘how cool is that?' manner and Sam couldn't help but return the grin.

"OK, so let's find your back pack and get outta here. You right this is getting too weird for words. Let's blow this joint before Santa comes along and offers us a lift on his sleigh!"


wWw

From its cover in the evergreen foliage the ghost's cadaverous face morphed slowly into a grin. The startled bird had done the job he intended, shaping the path of his victims to his will. All was well; he would have his way with these unfortunate travellers before the night was over. His eerie laughter echoed into the snowy night.


Ends


Join us tomorrow as our intrepid Winchester boys fall foul of yet another Christmas ‘save’.
We’d love to know if you’re enjoying the story so far...

Of course you had to end the chapter right there :bang :bang

:unsure: oopsie, mind your head! More to come soon :woohoo ! Bird xx

Hiya Kyle,

Sorry about that but we had to give Dean a bit of a breather before they set off on the next stage of their Advent adventure!! Hope you enjoy the next installment and thanks for the comments.




The Twelve Saves of Christmas - Chapter 5




Wounded and weary, with the safety of the Impala seemingly further than ever, the boys start down a treacherous downhill path as the weather worsens around them. The avenging entity with it’s hidden agenda watches their progress with silent satisfaction. What else could possibly go wrong?

Save 4 - The Yule Log Incident by Janger


December 22nd 9.15pm


Dean stood shivering, starkly pale in the harsh light of the moon, hunched over with his sawn-off shotgun tucked under his left arm and blowing vigorously onto his hands, trying vainly to bring some warmth back to them. Deep shadows danced eerily around the edges of the clearing and wildly dancing snowflakes whirled in silent unison, keeping time with the fitful gusting of the wind as it began to pick up speed.

"Well, that's just peachy, Sam. As if it's not cold enough already, looks like another snowstorm's on its way."

He peered into the gloom at the tree line, searching for a sight of his brother, waiting for a reply. With head cocked to one side he listened to the muffled crunch of heavy footsteps working their way through the densely packed fir trees.

"Sam? Listen man, the rucksack can't be that far into the trees, I swear I left it on the ground somewhere over here by a tree. I said by a tree, not buried deep under a tree within the most remote part of the damned wood." His eyebrows rose in unison as understanding suddenly dawned upon him.

"Sam?" He yelled. "Sam. You're not looking for my rucksack, are you! You're trying to find that sonofabitch's grave. Get back out here, Sammy. I don't want you on your own in there with that spooky-assed hiker patrolling the neighbourhood!"

Hefting his shotgun and adjusting his recently acquired, makeshift crutch, Dean pulled up his collar and, leaning heavily on the stout stick, tested the weight on his knee. Grimacing, he turned towards the rustling noises coming from within the trees and then slowly hobbled towards them.

"I'm coming in, Bro. Don't shoot me!"

"Don't worry, Dean. I'm on my way out. There's no sign of your rucksack in there." Sam's disembodied voice floated out from between the gently creaking branches.

"Well, that would be because I didn't drop it in there. I told you, I left it under a tree somewhere over here." He gestured towards the bushes and trees to his left. "So, unless that damned ghost picked it up and took it for a ride, it's still gonna be over by that patch of brambles."

Pausing, his keen eyes picked out the slight indentations of their previous footprints, now almost concealed by the freshly fallen snow. Peering into the darkening shadows, he struggled to retrace his earlier path, eyes swiftly coming to rest on an oval shaped mound, half hidden by the low lying branches of a massive pine.

Behind him the foliage swayed, parting to admit a tousle-haired, snow-splattered Sam crashing back into the snow swirled clearing.

"Well, Pocahontas, you find anything in there?" Dean drawled over his shoulder.

"Nothing we're looking for." Sam replied with forced pleasantness.

"It's a helluva lot warmer in there out of the wind though. Maybe we should just head on back to the car, get you fixed up and come back when we've had more time to find out what the hell happened up here. Nothing's adding up, at the moment it's like we're looking for a needle in a snow-covered haystack."

Dean nodded wearily, "I guess...well, at least I found my backpack." He jutted his chin in the direction of the snow-covered lump. "Come on, let's make a move. If we're quick we could get back before this snow gets much worse. Keep an eye open for that freaky mother on the way back though, it's still lurking out here somewhere."

Sam quickly crossed the clearing and retrieved the bag, shaking it to remove the thick coating of snow. Casually he slung it over his shoulder.

"Hey, Dean, you got any food in here? I'm starving."

"You're always starving, Bigfoot. There's plenty of food in there, along with some salt and kerosene. None of your rabbit food though." Dean's face suddenly clouded over, "Hell, I wish I'd put a flask in, I could kill for a coffee."

"Yeah, I'm with you there, bro. Let's get out of this wind first, though." Sam held his hand out for the shotgun. "Come on, the path's over here, we'll find somewhere sheltered, then sit and grab something to eat. Don't trip over that trap, dude, and watch out for that crazy robin." Sam looked warily up at the nearby branches.

"S'okay, Sam, you sprung the trap, remember? And I don't think the robin'll be back." Dean muttered under his breath, teeth starting to chatter as the arctic wind found its way in through the front of his jacket. "Let's get going, m'getting cold just standing here."

Sam went to take a hold of his brother's arm. "You gonna be okay in this snow?"

Dean waved away the offer of assistance.

"Well, as of this minute I'm not seeing any other options here, Sam. Not unless Saint Nick really is gonna come along in his sleigh looking for hitchhikers."

He looked incredulously at the looming form beside him. Seeing the brief look of hurt that flickered across Sam's features he softened his tone, adding.

"I'll be fine once we get going, Sam. My knee's just stiffened up while I've been standing around waiting for you to get your bird-pecked head in gear!"

Together, they headed slowly out from the snow covered clearing towards the slippery path on the other side that would eventually lead them back down the eight or so miles, to the safety of the waiting Impala.

Sam kept a wary eye out for both the violent spirit that had earlier attacked his brother, and for any incoming robins showing signs of extreme aggression. Dean, on the other hand, concentrated on simply placing one foot in front of the other and remaining upright.

Overhead, the stark, bright light reflecting from the moon was left behind as they exited the clearing and began their steep descent. Ancient pines lined the path on both sides and the increasing roar of the wind was muted as they were enfolded between the grasping, feathered boughs. The deep, velvety blackness of silent shadows surrounded them as they negotiated the perilous pathway.

wWw

The ghost of the Christmas Hiker silently watched the brothers' slow progression from the shade of the evergreen boughs, as his tiny, red-breasted familiar looked on with its beady, black eyes. Something akin to contentment etched his drawn skin with pallid shadows and the dense foliage absorbed his soft sigh of contentment. They would soon be his.


wWw


"Damn, but it's good to be outta that wind. " Dean rasped, steadfastly ignoring the varied selection of festive aches and pains that assailed him. "Now all I need is for my ass to thaw out and the world will be a much happier place.

"How's your knee, Dean? You wanna have a rest, find someplace to sit down, have something to eat?" Sam ventured, peering into the gloom ahead, his head cocked to one side, listening.

"Not here. Let's get down off this path first." Dean panted, glancing behind at his brother. "My knee's gone kinda numb now but if I stop, I'm not sure it'll be keen to get goin' again."

"Okay, just let me know if you need to stop, though. Look, let me get up there in front of you, just in case."

"Dude! Will you just stop with the fussin'. ‘M'fine."

Dean continued his slow progress down the treacherous slope, leaning heavily on the stout stick, testing the ground before committing his weight. Sweating with the effort, he struggled to bite back the gasps of pain. Underfoot, the newly fallen snow concealed the uneven footing and jutting stones.

"Hey, Dean. I think it's just round the next bend that the path runs right alongside that waterfall. Listen. Can you hear it?"

Dean dutifully turned to listen. "Wonderful! I was just starting to warm up, too. Mind you, at least that means we're nearly halfway down." He added almost cheerfully.

"Just be careful along there, dude, ‘cause it was really slippery on the way up here. There's a sheer drop of about 30ft, and no holly trees to save you if you go over again."

"'Kay, Sammy." Dean nodded affably. "I'll be careful and watch my step."

"Dean? Dean, wait. You okay?" Sam called, alarmed by the sudden, easygoing acceptance of his normally petulant sibling.

"'M fine, Sammy. Just a little cold ‘n' tired. Ma knee hurts, head hurts too. Did I say I'm tired? Getting real sleepy." He mumbled into the wind, yawning widely, shaking his head to clear the black spots that had taken to dancing before his eyes.

Sam watched the darker outline of his brother wavering increasingly slowly in and out of the deep shadows, and lines of worry marred his face. He knew from his brother's uncharacteristic gait, that regardless of Dean's assertions that he was fine, they would have to stop and give his knee a rest if they were going to get back to the safety of the Impala, in one piece.

‘Well, if I have to tell him that I can't make it any further to make him stop, then that's what I'll have to do.'

Ahead and to the left of the path the tree line thinned, allowing moonlit shafts to pierce through the wavering branches, spotlighting the gossamer fall of snow that continued to drift between the overhanging boughs. Cold, blue light illuminated the billowing clouds of foam spray emanating from the churning waters. The rush of wind beyond the shelter of the trees whipped the fine spray away to join in icy union with the thickly falling snow.

The path edge tapered away to a narrow strip of ice-slick rock and ragged scrub that barely managed to cling to the poorer soil of the exposed pathway, running above the steeply sided walls of the waterfall.

Dean paused in his quiet rendition of Aerosmith's Walk This Way, peering through bleary eyes as his labouring breath clouded around the snowflakes crowning his head. Lines of pain creased the pale forehead as fiery tendrils radiated from his swollen knee, the continued pressure of the hike down the uneven path aggravating the already tender joint. His head pulsed in time with the beating of his heart and the rough bark of the stick rubbed blisters into the raw flesh of his hand.

"Sam?" He called back breathlessly over his shoulder. "Next time I suggest we go hunting in the woods... any woods... anytime... ever... Just shoot me, okay?"

Sam's quiet chuckle was stolen away by the approaching roar of the waterfall.

"Yeah okay, Dean. Just make sure you remind me. You know, all it'll take is the scent of some hairy-assed werewolf and you'll be off like a shot."

"Exactly my point, Sam. Just shoot me before we go, and it'll save a lot of suffering in the long run!"

"Come on, let me help you down this next bit. It's gonna be freezing along there and slippery as hell. Then we'll stop and see just what dietary wonders you have stashed in your backpack once we get back into the trees."

Sam picked up his pace, moving as swiftly as the frozen ground would allow.

Dean stood with eyes closed, chewing at his lower lip, calling upon hidden dwindling reserves of strength to simply remain on his feet. Sam brushed past, taking point; he placed an encouraging hand briefly upon his weary brother's arm. Dean raised his eyes and gave a tired smirk, indicating his readiness to continue.

‘Dammit, how in Hell's name did this happen? We should'a been celebrating Christmas, warm and safe in the best friggin' room in the best friggin' hotel this town's got to offer.'

Dean dropped his eyes groundward, knowing his defences were temporarily lowered and desperate not to let Sam see the hurt in his glazed, green eyes.

‘ But no! Seems I can't even complete a simple sonofabitchin' on-line booking form right. So, yet again, Sam gets the Christmas from Hell, it's no wonder he's the ‘Boy who hates Christmas'. Just once, it'd be nice to get a break.'

With a heavy sigh, Dean adjusted the walking stick, making sure he had a firm grip and wincing as it contacted the open blisters on his palm.

‘Oh god!. I gotta stop soon, please let us stop soon.'

"You ready, Dean?"

Sam's voice came from up close, where he stood with arm outstretched, in position to help his brother down the potentially lethal, ice encrusted slope.

"Born ready, Sammy."

Dean flashed his trademark grin, teeth shimmering in the flickering moonlight. Shame was, standing so close, Sam could see that it never reached the older man's dark-rimmed eyes.

Sam took a hold of Dean's left elbow, steadying him as he shifted his weight forwards, supporting him as the gasp of pain hissed through his parted lips. He dug in the deep tread of his sturdy walking boots, determined to maintain a good grip as he felt Dean's weight lean heavily into him.

"Come on, Dean. This is the worst bit, get this over with and it'll be plain sailing all the way down. Come on, I gotcha."

Sam encouraged, as he felt Dean's hand digging hard into the muscles of his forearm beneath his jacket. He heard the stifled groan that escaped him, as once again he brought his protesting left leg back into motion.

"Ah, Jeez..."

Dean bit back any further comment as he lurched unsteadily down the steepest part of the slope, his breath hitching in huge gasps of the frigid air.

"There you go, that's it. Whoa, whoa, steady there. It's okay, we're getting there."

Sam kept up a steady litany as he sidestepped down the rougher part of the path, trying to leave Dean the clearer central section.

"Sam."

Dean grit through teeth clenched tight against his desire to scream.

"Sam. I'm not a goddamned dog.” He panted heavily, “Quit talking to me like I'm a freakin' idiot."

He snarled, anger rising to mask his pain.

Sam bit back the angry comment that sprang to his lips. Rolling his eyes, he risked a glance further down the track to where the path petered away to less than four feet wide. The only thing between them and the edge of the mist drenched chasm at that point was a picture-postcard-perfect pine log, obviously placed there as a natural bench, for anyone brave enough to attempt the arduous climb to admire the spectacular views across the landmark waterfall.

It sat peacefully, glistening in the moonlight, under a thick layer of driven snow. Sprigs of pinecones jutted picturesquely from several small branches and a gentle lacing of Ivy, visible even through its snowy overcoat, clung to the rough bark. The normally comforting image of a roaring fire with the Yuletide log as its centrepiece made Sam's blood run cold in his veins.

"Nah, now I'm getting paranoid." He breathed to himself.

Turning back to the task in hand, he shuffled further down the slope, the log all but forgotten.

"'M sorry, Sammy. I didn't mean to snap at you."

The quiet voice surprised him with its close proximity, Dean was hunched towards him, his head almost touching Sam's as he huddled over his younger brother's supportive arm. Sweat darkened hair was plastered to the pale, bruised forehead and Sam reached out automatically to gently push it back from the wound.

"No problem, du..."

The rest of the statement was lost as the poorly stabilised shale beneath Sam's boot tread chose that moment to work free and begin a tumbling descent down the slippery slope. Sam staggered, throwing his left arm wide and going down heavily on his right hip, feet scrabbling desperately for purchase on the snow covered ground.

The sudden change in pitch threw Dean totally off balance, his knee contacted the iron hard ground and he screamed, his body jack-knifing to curl protectively round the injured limb. His anchor gone, Dean pitched sideways, feet gone from under him he slid, gaining momentum as gravity took an interest, straight down the track heading for the edge.

Frantically he cried out, arms flailing as he wildly attempted to arrest his slide.

"Saaaamm!"

Sam lunged manically, missing Dean's jacket by mere inches.

"Dean, no!"

He hollered, watching in horror as Dean slammed up against a small boulder. Whilst the impact had diverted Dean from the precipitous edge of the path, the resounding crack of his head, against the conveniently placed log was less than reassuring.

Sam lay, momentarily frozen to the spot, heart racing as he took in the scene before him.

"Dean, oh god, no. Dean?" The whispered words escaped his disbelieving lips.

"Dean?" Louder this time, he slithered quickly down the remainder of the slope, glancing nervously towards where the path ended and the drop began. Unable to stop himself, he crunched into the unconcerned Yule log, reaching out with shaking hands to the silent body of his big brother where he lay, unmoving, in the churned up snow.

Gently he turned Dean's unresisting body, rolled it away from the log to carefully pull it across his lap, keeping him out of the worst of the snow.

"Oh, no. Oh, Jesus, please no!" Sam's panicked words tumbled from his suddenly dry lips.

"Please, Dean, be okay. Please! You gotta be okay."

Gently he wiped the fresh smattering of snow, grit and blood from his brother's face, supporting his chin whilst he leant close, listening for signs of breathing.

"Oh, thank god." He felt the gentle puff of warm air against his cheek.

"Dean, come on, bro. Just talk to me. Please? Come on, you're okay. I gotcha."

Unconsciously, he rocked the still form, wincing as he registered the rising lump on the side of Dean's already bruised forehead. By the light of the moon he could see the blood splattered snow where the precious liquid dripped a steady trail from a deep gash above his left eye.

"Dean, please wake up?"

He searched his pockets, returning triumphant with an almost clean handkerchief, which he pressed tightly against the open wound.

"Uunnrrggghhh." A long, slow groan and slight flicker of the eyelids met his gesture.

"Ah, I'm sorry, Dean. I know it must hurt. Please just wake up for me, dude!"

Another painful moan cut through the night air, a stirring of the head accompanied by fluttering of the long dark lashes, indicating a reluctant return to consciousness.

"S…Sam? Sammy?" The words ghosted from bleeding lips, as confused emerald green rose, searching for his brother's face.

"Hey, Dean. Uh, man you gave me a scare there. Dean, look at me. You okay?"

"Wha... happened, Sammy? Why 'm I on your lap?"

"Uh, I slipped, you slid! Sam offered apologetically. "Um...You were headed straight for the edge when you hit a boulder and veered headfirst into this...aah, I don't know how to tell you this, Dean, but I guess you just got saved from taking a nosedive over the waterfall by this uh, big snow-covered log!"

Dean squinted in confusion, wincing as he moved his head.

"Holy crap that hurts, Sam.” He sucked in a deep breath, gulping against the rush of freezing night air, “Jeez! Everything hurts!"

"I know, I know. Just lay still for a little while and then we'll get you up, find somewhere to stop and get you patched up. There's trees up ahead, we'll stop there, clean you up a little and have something to eat. But just give it a minute, okay? Get your breath back!"

"'Kay, Sammy!” Dean whispered, eyes skittering as they struggled to focus beyond his brother’s swaying faces. “Hey, Sammy... kinda looks like a Yule log, huh?" Dean nodded sleepily, more than willing to stay exactly where he was, leaching warmth from the encircling arms, uncertain whether he'd be able to get up when the time did eventually come to move.

"Yeah, just like a freakin' big Yule log."

‘What in hell's name is going on here with all this festive symbolism, rescue crap?' Sam thought, getting more alarmed with every festive ‘save'.

"Hey, at least we're at the bottom of the slope now, dude." Sam tried cheerfully.

Dean simply nodded, rolled his eyes once and leant in towards the warmth of his baby brother.

Ends



Hope you're still enjoying this! We'd love to hear what you think!

Finally, I'm left alone enough to be able to finish the last two chapters. Oh, my gosh, the way you are weaving in the holiday symbols is very ingenious. But, poor Dean, how much can one body take. I need more story please.

Hiya Aislinn,

Thanks for the comments hun, we're so pleased you managed to fit the chapters into your pre-Christmas rush...There's a week to go and I'm thinking how on earth am I going to get it all done!!
We had a totaly insane time planning this story with all the seasonal saves - still a few more to go though!!
You're right poor Dean, just how much can we put him through, so I guess it's time to get them safely out of the wind and get them both warmed up and patched up. Well...it's a nice idea, but just how often do things go according to plan??

Hope you find time to read the next installment!



Chapter Six - The Twelve Saves of Christmas





When Sam takes a dive into the freezing water, it’s left up to a sorely injured Dean to save the day. Problem is who's gonna save Dean? Join us as the seasonal romp continues with Merry Christmas whumpage for all!


Save Five - On Dasher, On Dancer, On Comet, On Cupid! by birdie


December 22nd 9.45pm


"Dean?"

Sam twisted his head, trying to see through the swirling snow into his brother's eyes and shifted Dean's arm where it sat on his shoulders, as he helped him along the icy path. The elder Winchester didn't respond, his head hanging down as he focussed on the slippery surface. His forward motion was slow, his limp getting more pronounced as he leaned heavily on his crutch.

"Dean?"

Sam pulled on Dean's belt where he held onto it to help keep his brother from falling over, trying to attract his attention. Slowly, Dean raised his head and smiled a disarming, lop-sided grin.

"Hey, Sammy."

"Hey yourself."

Sam couldn't help but smile back, even though he was increasingly worried. That had been a hell of a bump to the head Dean had taken and, thick as his skull was Sam knew concussion was, probably inevitable.

"Were you singing, dude?"

Dean giggled in embarrassment.

"Yup!"

"Jingle Bells, right?"

Sam was softly incredulous.

"No...no...no, Sammy. You got it all wrong."

The older Winchester squeezed Sam's shoulder where his hand draped against his snow bedecked jacket.

"Not Jingle Bells, that's for wussies. I was humming Jingle Bell Rock...possibly the coolest Christmas song ever. Wanna join in? You can do the bass harmonies."

Sam shook his head in slight bemusement.

"No that's ok, Dean, I'll just..."

Dean wobbled to a halt and with a determined effort, focussed his slightly blown, green eyes on Sam's hazel.

"We can sing something else if you'd rather?"

Dean interrupted his voice full of sincerity and Sam found himself smiling again.

"No, it's cool, Dean, you carry on. You have a good singing voice, you know? Does it help with your knee?"

Sam's gaze took Dean's wobbly focus to his own knee.

"Ppppfft!"

Dean huffed out a dismissing breath, a look of slight confusion flickering across his features.

"Knee's just fine, Sammy."

He patted Sam's shoulder again to reassure his baby brother. Sam nodded as he asked in knowing disbelief.

"So, it doesn't hurt at all, huh?"

Dean shook his head fervently and Sam watched pain ghost across his pale face at the movement.

"Your head hurt?"

Sam let go of Dean's waistband and raised his hand to the great duck egg of a bump on his brother's forehead.

Dean jerked his head away from the probing fingers.

"Ouch, Sammy!"

He grumbled,his hand flying to his throbbing temple.

"Jeeze, that hurts...I've got a lump the size of a Christmas pudding. What did you do to me, Sam?"

He looked at his baby brother with the accusatory stare that Sam had seen so many times as a child. Sam's nervousness about Dean's head injury ramped up another notch.

"Don't you remember spectacularly breaking your fall just now by smashing your head into that nice, big Yule log?"

Sam held Dean's unfocussed green eyes, looking for some recollection of the fourth ‘save' of Christmas.

"Why the hell would I do that, Sam?"

Dean tutted with the stupidity of Sam's explanation as he shuffled on his unsteady legs. He planted his third ‘leg' solidly into the banked snow, seeking stability but the movement pulled at his bandaged knee creasing his face with pain.

"My knee hurts, too, Sam."

His voice was a bit childlike in its petulance and Sam watched as fatigue flooded suddenly across his brother's usually stoic face. He glanced around looking for somewhere to settle Dean down so he could get some rest. They were still too near to the summit of the butte and its howling winds, so Sam again took hold of his unusually compliant brother and together they continued their perilous downhill path, towards the more thickly pine-covered quiet, lower down the slope.

wWw

The Christmas Hiker's ethereal presence coalesced in the eddying snowflakes behind them. His angular face was animated with cadaverous shadows as he smiled. They were retracing their steps to exactly where he wanted them to be. They would soon be his, and his long anticipated plans would be brought to fruition. He drifted behind them as they trudged painfully through the mounting blizzard, his eerie moans of delight counterpointing the snow-bestowed silence.

wWw

"Ahhhh!"

Dean snuggled himself deeper into the warm carpet of needles and organic debris that cluttered the base of the massive spruce tree that Sam had stashed him under. The ground under the thick evergreen canopy was dry, out of the wind and felt almost warm and the dense spruce branches kept all but the rarest flake of snow from them. He felt his eyes beginning to close and he smiled, breathing in the sweet, clean fragrance of the ancient trees.

"Nice, Sam."

He murmured as his brother helped him shed his backpack and settled him down.

"You feeling warmer?"

Sam crouched beside Dean, rummaging through his own backpack, taking stock of what emergency items they had with them that might be of immediate use. It was clear to the younger Winchester that his big brother needed to rest for a while. He pulled out the small can of lighter fluid they always carried for salt and burns and smiled, thinking how much easier that would make building a fire. Further down in his pack he found the ‘space' blanket he had bought in an outdoor supply store months earlier. Sam grinned, remembering the crap Dean had given him about the thirty dollars it had cost.

"Here, Dean. This'll help warm you up till I can get the fire lit."

"Fire? We staying here, Sammy?"

Dean's weary gaze found Sam's and the younger Winchester prep'd his argument for spending the night under their makeshift shelter.

"Well, Dean, it's blowing a blizzard out there and ..."

Dean held up a silencing hand, catching Sam on the side of the head, his depth perception clearly affected by his altercation with the log.

"Oops, sorry, Sam. You're a bit fuzzy there." He mumbled.

"I think it's a good idea. I'm fine, of course, but no doubt you, being less used to this amount of physical exertion, might well be tired. So, I think we should hunker down here and get a few hours sleep and then we can press on at first light."

Sam rocked back on his heels, amazed that Dean would admit the sense in his virtually unvoiced plan.

"Ummm...Well, okay Dean. If that's what you think."

Dean nodded.

"That's settled then. Are you doing something with that thing or just wafting it about?"

"Huh?"

Dean tipped his chin at the space blanket in Sam's hand, his eyes drooping closed as he yawned.

"Oh, yeah."

Sam flustered as he leaned forward and tucked the shiny, aluminium-like material around his brother's muscular form. Dean opened his eyes as the fabric enfolded his aching limbs. Moon shadows raced silvery paths across the shiny blanket and Dean chuckled.

"What's so funny?"

Sam sat back on his heels again as Dean propped himself up slightly on his elbows and gazed with concussion-confused eyes back at him.

"I look like a turkey dressed for the oven!"

Sam joined in the laughter, tucking the blanket tighter round Dean's legs as he lay there chortling. His hands brushed against Dean's boots. They were wet through, a sheen of ice covering the worn leather. He glanced up as he began to unlace them.

"Your boots are soaked, Dean. Are your feet cold?"

"Nope!"

Dean smiled happily as his head wobbled slightly on his shoulders.

"Not cold at all."

He added emphatically.

Sam pulled the first sopping boot from his brother's foot and wrapped his hand around Dean's toes. They were icy cold.

"Dean! They're freezing."

"Nope!"

The giggling hunter re-iterated adamantly.

"Not cold, Sammy. Totally and utterly numb."

Sam tutted and stripped his brother's dripping socks off. He rummaged in his pack, looking for the spare socks they were used to carrying as part of their emergency equipment. He found them after moments of searching and looked back up, only to find Dean had burrowed his bare feet into the spruce needle coverlet and was sealing his swaddled toes in the space blanket.

"Is that warm enough?"

Sam put his hand on top of Dean's improvised comforter and was delighted to feel heat radiating beneath his hand.

"Toasty, Sammy, just toasty."

Dean smiled happily back at his brother as Sam returned to searching his pack for provisions. He was rewarded with socks, a spare T-shirt and some granola bars for his efforts. Reaching over he pulled Dean's rucksack close. A quick search yielded a further two odd socks, an almost clean T-shirt and a dented metal drinking cup.

"You hungry, Dean?"

Sam held the granola bar up into Dean's telescoping eye line.

"Phhfft!"'

Dean exhaled dismissively at the ‘health-food' treat and gestured with his hand for Sam to pass him his backpack. He struggled to a sitting position and Sam placed the small pack in his lap. Seconds later Dean's face lit up and he pulled from the dark interior a familiar yellow sack.

"Peanut M&M's?"

Sam scoffed, as Dean discarded the backpack and wiggled the candy bag for Sam to wonder at.

"Survival food, Sammy!"

Dean protested, sniffing the chocolate covered confectionary appreciatively.

"Okay, bro."

Sam conceded the point, happy that Dean still seemed to be reasonably coherent. The bruising from his head injury was radiating slowly from his temple and Sam could see that he was gonna have a handsome shiner by the morning. He was relieved they were gonna spend the night within the tree's majestic embrace.

"I need to get us a fire going..."

Sam mused, glancing around for suitable kindling.

"Too damn right you do." Dean grumbled.

"Thought you'd never get round to it! Look, there's plenty of smaller twigs amongst the spruce needles and if you cut a few of the dry old branches from the base of the tree they'll burn real well."

"I know how to set a god-damn fire, Dean."

Sam's earlier concerns were efficiently swept away by the appearance of Dean in full patronising big-brother mode.

"Okay, okay..." Dean held his hands up in surrender and snuggled further under the blanket.

"I was only trying to help."

"Yeah, I'm sorry."

Sam squeezed Dean's leg beneath the blanket in apology.

"Ouch!"

Dean whinged dramatically, and Sam laughed as he set about gathering enough wood to not only start the fire, but keep it going all night.


wWw


The ghost's pale eyes absorbed the burst of activity beneath the ancient spruce with mounting impatience. They were no doubt digging in for the night and that meant yet longer until he could bring his plans to fruition. His mournful voice carried in the snow-brightened darkness, betraying his endless pain and loneliness.


wWw

"Sam..?"

Dean had settled back down into his hollowed out, organic ‘sleeping-bag' and his voice was sleepy and childlike.

"I'm really thirsty...Can you get me a drink?"

Sam looked up from his task. The fire was almost set and ready to light but Dean's request was so plaintive. He picked up the dented mug and looked briefly over his shoulder towards the sound of the tumbling waterfall. He glanced back at his sibling and found his breath catch in his chest as Dean's deep green eyes reflected the pale of the full moon back at him. Vulnerability briefly poured from his accomplished, controlled brother and Sam felt his throat tighten as he responded.

"Sure thing, Dean. I'll go down to the river and get ya a drink before I light this. I want to be sure it burns safe under the tree so don't light it till I come back, will you?"

Dean nodded, his chin brushing his chest as he hunkered under his spruce needle comforter. "Will you be okay for 5 minutes?"

Dean nodded, yawning softly.

"You won't be any longer, will you?"

Sam rose to his feet, crouching beneath the canopy of spruce.

"Okay, two minutes, Dean. It's just down the slope a ways."

"'Kay, Sam." Dean mumbled, closing his eyes.

"Try and stay awake till I get back, Dean. You need some fluids and something to eat, and then you can sleep."

"Okay." Dean forced his eyes wide open. "I'll sing!"

Sam laughed, thinking he must remember all this to torment Dean with after the concussion was resolved.

"Sure, Dean. You do that."

"What?" Dean's perplexed face was pale in the moonlight.

"What, what?" Sam questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"What...shall...I...sing?"

Dean spoke like Sam was an idiot, and it was all he could do not to collapse laughing at his brother's confusion.

"Oh...umm? A Christmas song? Deck the Halls?"

Dean smiled, a huge grin plastering his face.

"With Boughs of Holly?"

Sam nodded, unsure what had so amused his brother. Dean thumped himself resoundingly on the chest.

"It could be my theme song, Sammy. Deck the ‘Dean' with Boughs of Holly!"

Sam shook his head and turned down the slope towards the river, his brother's lilting tenor ringing raucously in his ears.


wWw


The slope to the river was sheet ice sprinkled as it was with spray from the thirty foot falls. Sam's feet went out from under him as he stepped onto the path and he tumbled, all long legs and arms, towards the deep pool that formed the base of the spectacular waterfall. He grabbed desperately at trees and bushes as he slithered towards the freezing water but everything was slick with ice and he could not gain any purchase.

Panic started to envelope Sam; knowing that the river water would likely be cold enough to kill him in minutes, and he did the only thing he could think of to do. He yelled.

"Dean!"


wWw


Dean stopped in mid, drunken "fa-la-la-lala" at the sound of Sam's terrified cries. That one word instantly banished any haziness from Dean's concussed brain and he leapt to his feet, throwing aside the blanket, and sore knee bedamned, sprinted in the direction Sam had disappeared. His brother's massive tracks were easy to follow in the virgin snow and Dean was just in sight of the falls when the splash of Sam entering the deep pool cut the snowy silence.

Dean screamed into the swirling snow, "Sam!"

And he charged, shedding his heavy jacket and over-shirt, as he arched powerfully and dived into the liquid black pool.

The first contact with the water blasted the air from Sam's shocked lungs. The pool was so cold he could not breathe and the tumble down the slope had left him so disorientated he could not, in the darkness, tell surface from river bottom. He drifted in hypothermic shock, too cold to fight for his life as the crashing water tossed him like a leaf in the inky darkness.

Dean's surge of adrenaline coursed feverishly around his bruised body, protecting him from the morbid frigidity of the icy water. He piked elegantly and dove for the base of the obsidian pool, his instincts for Sam, as much as his sight, taking him to his stricken brother. The churning waters of the foaming pool tumbled Sam away from him as he fought to grab hold of his brother's helpless form but Dean's desperate hand finally grasped the sleeve of Sam's jacket and he was able to pull his brother's inert body to his own.

He kicked hard for the surface, knee protesting bitterly as his lungs burned with the effort. Dean broke the surface with an enormous gasp, pulling air urgently into his tortured lungs, and carefully turning Sam in his arms to ensure his brother could breathe in the frigid air.

"Sam!"

Dean's breathless voice was brittle in the cold, clear night as the currents and eddies in the waterfall fed pool battered the exhausted pair.

"Sammy, can you hear me?"

He shook Sam in his arms, pressing his hand to his brother's chest, feeling for a heartbeat as he tried to keep Sam's head above water.

"Pl...please, S...Sam!"

The water buffeted against Dean, tossing him like he was weightless against the jagged rocks that hid below the surface of the dark waters. He curled his body around his brother's trying to shield Sam from the knocks from the boulders as the freezing temperatures sapped his scant remaining energy.

"S...Sam...help me h...here. Can't hold ya...much longer."

The teeming cauldron sucked the struggling Winchesters below the surface, pulling them below the tumbling deluge of the falls. Dean hugged Sam to his chest as the rocks battered and bruised his body. A direct impact to his injured knee drew a scream from his blued lips as his strength was almost completely depleted. He was losing the fight and there was nothing more he could do.

wWw

Ten miles up the river course the father of the household looked into the tear stained faces of his large brood. Their collective pouts and quivering lips near broke his festive heart.

"Well, you see kids, Santa needed one of the guys to help him with the presents and it was Cupid's turn so he had to go back to the North Pole..."

They looked at the thirty foot display of inflatable reindeer and Santa's sleigh that adorned their roof. Dasher, Dancer and Prancer were all present and correct. Vixen stood to attention in her traces alongside her brothers Donner and Blitzen. Even the flaky Comet held her ground, her guy ropes quivering in the wind. Cupid, however, was conspicuous by his absence. The gale force winds that night having sent him sailing off into the clear, midnight-blue sky. It was a festive disaster that was to turn to spectacular triumph.

wWw

If you had asked Dean if there was anything that might come to ‘save' Sam and him from their mortal peril on this occasion, he would likely not have credited their continuation on this Earth to a giant, inflatable reindeer. Especially not one called Cupid. However, he was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, or even a gift reindeer, and so when Cupid tumbled over the falls and floated near to him, he had no hesitation in grabbing the bobbing quadruped and draping Sam over its back to float him to the shore. With Sam's weight supported, Dean was able to catch his breath and, clinging tightly to Cupid, kick weakly for the rocky bank.

Still, it took him precious minutes to propel them the few feet in the rough currents and by the time he could grab at the vegetation on the pool's edge, he was so utterly exhausted he could barely pull air into his lungs. The size of their blow up saviour meant that it was a relatively easy job to push Sam onto the shore, however, and then all Dean had to do was crawl out beside him. That was harder than he had imagined it would be though and by the time Dean flopped his upper body beside his brother, he could hear Sam loudly hacking up half the contents of the murky pool.

It was one of the best sounds he had ever heard.


Ends


Well, we had to get Santa's reindeer in there somehow!!
We hope you’re going to join us for another seasonal ‘save’ tomorrow, when it’s time to give the boys a little TLC – well eventually anyway!

aww loved it...sammy in danger does it for me any day!! ;)
xx

Again this story amazes me with the attention to detail and the creativity with which it is written. I'm going to have to share this with my nephews, I really believe that they will love it.

Man that little swim the boys took in a freezing pool really made the -4F weather we had on Monday seem like summer.

Hiya and Thanks You all for your lovely comments...

jared.is.fit - (love the name by the way) Poor Sam had a pretty close call in that pool, they've reached the side but they're a long way from home and the road is fraught with danger! I hope you stick around to keep them company on the long road back! Jane and Bev x

Aislinn, thank you for your lovely comments, we're delighted you are enjoying the story and appreciate the festive additions!! We are very honoured that you feel your nephews might enjoy sharing this, we'd love to hear what they think of it if you do!! Thanks for sticking with us. Jane and Bev x

Kyle, you're right, our own snow and freezing tempertures pale to insignificance when you think where those suffering Winchester boys are right now!! Lying wet and wounded at the frozen edge of the pool in a blizzard, it's definately time to get them somewhere warm and dry!! 'Fraid that there's plenty more snow and freezing temperatures to come before we can get them there though!




The Twelve Saves of Christmas - Chapter 7



Lying wet and wounded on the freezing shore, as Cupid slowly lets them down, has Dean finally been pushed beyond his limits? It's gonna take all Sam's reserves to rescue his brother this time and get him back to the safety of their arboreal 'home'. (And they may need to shed those wet clothes as well! Bare flesh warning!!)


Save 6 The Little Christmas Tree by Janger

December 23rd 00.45am


Cold…the word didn't even begin to scratch the surface of what he felt. Cold…had no power to convey the deeply cutting, mind-numbing all encompassing pain that he felt right now. Every fibre of his being seemed to shrivel in on itself, muscles shrieked with the strain and shock of his unexpected plunge into the ice-cold waters of the dark, seething pool.

In the water, as he fought down through the eddying currents, desperately searching for his baby brother, the cold had been secondary. He was in full-on big brother mode and ‘Find Sam!' was the only objective to pierce his one-track mind.

Now, however, as he lay trembling, one arm curled protectively over the feebly moving legs of his softly spluttering brother, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that had he been on his own he would have, could have, moved no further.

The icy wind, adding insult to injury, played cruelly over his t-shirt clad back, the sodden, clinging cotton doing nothing to prevent the cutting gusts as they attempted to steal away the last remnants of his already seriously depleted body heat.

Blinking the freezing droplets from stinging eyes, he raised his head, wincing as the small movement set the world to spinning. Desperately struggling to control his numb, oddly disconnected feeling limbs, he scrabbled at the wet denim beneath his crooked right arm, feebly shaking the leg beneath.

"S...S...Sammy," He managed through fiercely chattering teeth.

"S...Sammy. W..wake up, d...d...dammit." He pounded weakly on the unresponsive leg.

‘Oh, crap! I gotta get the kid back to shelter. At least he's still breathing.'

Dean sucked in a gasp of frigid air, trying to steel himself for the task ahead.

‘Okay, move it! Now! Come on! Suck it up, Winchester. That's Sammy lying there, don't just give up and leave him to die.' The stern voice of his father snapped him back to the most pressing task at hand.

Dean hauled himself up from the flat grey rock on arms that quivered, whether from the piercing cold or from weakness he neither knew nor cared. Pushing all other thoughts and sensations from his mind he forcefully dragged his legs clear of the icy water. Mercifully numb, he didn't register the fresh bruises and lacerations that adorned his straining form.

With disbelieving eyes, he quickly took in the length of his younger sibling lying prone, draped across the still hissing, slowly deflating carcass of the huge, glitter festooned reindeer as it lay sparkling in the moonlight.

"H...hell, you gotta be k...kidding me!" ‘Okay, this is unreal, must be a dream. Maybe I'll wake up soon.'

Slowly, he shook his head; ice-cold rivulets of river water trickled down his neck. Shuddering, he leant over the slowly stirring Sam.

"S...Sam." His voice rasped brokenly. He coughed, spitting to clear the coppery taste of blood from his mouth, wiping a shaking hand roughly across his lips.

"S...Sammy, you okay?" Shivering he reached out an uncertain hand to brush the lank hair from his brothers fluttering eyelids.

"Sam, dammit. Wake up, dude! We g...gotta get out of here. Now! Come on, man. G...gimme a br...break here."

Sam drifted, unconcerned. Vaguely he felt the discomfort of his grazed knuckles against the hard rock and, if he concentrated, the sounds and smells of the forest and the awful piercing cold trickled into his consciousness, so he shied away. He preferred to remain in the comfortable, anonymous darkness. He felt safe, could sense the reassuring presence of his big brother, and knew all would be well.

Well, at least he thought all was well, until he heard the somewhat less than comforting voice of said big brother shouting loudly in his ear, calling him back from the happy, dissociated world where he'd taken up temporary residence.

Just to confirm that things might be a little less than perfect, the gentle patting at his back grew more insistent and he sensed his shoulder being grabbed more roughly, his face turned towards the cold moonlight.

His eyelids fluttered, and suddenly the outside world came rushing in with an intensity that left him breathless. The bone chilling, biting cold cut through the final vestiges of his lethargy, confirming without a shadow of a doubt that things were pretty far from being either safe or well.

"Huuuhhhl"

He gasped, desperately lurching upwards, his head contacting with something hard as Dean shouted into his ear. Sam's arms curled around himself as the arctic wind knifed through his water-drenched clothes.

"Dean?"

He croaked, his eyes searched wildly for his brother as memories of his unplanned dip came flooding back. He didn't have far to look before his bloodshot, hazel eyes came to rest on the hunched figure of his older sibling, kneeling beside him, clutching the side of his head with both hands.

"H...holy crap, Sam! Is that the th...thanks I get for dragging your s...sorry ass back to dry land? You h...head butted me, man! Hell, n...n...next time I'll j...just go get my own drink, it'll be quicker and s...safer!"

Dean exclaimed loudly, rocking back on his heels and shaking his head to clear it of the fresh batch of stars that danced before his glazed, jade eyes.

"D...D...Dean? Oh g...god. S...s...sorry m...man!"

"F...forget it, Sammy. Come on, we g...gotta get out of this w...w...wind."

Dean reached out; taking hold of Sam's heaving shoulders he shuffled forwards, wincing and stumbling into his dazed brother as fresh shards of pain knifed up from his pulsing knee.

"W...work with me here, I d...don't think I can lift you, S...S...Sam."

Sam blinked slowly, shrinking down into his jacket, seeking protection from the icy blasts that buffeted them both. Suddenly his head snapped up.

"J..Jeez, Dean. You need more than a T...t...t shirt in this w...w...weather. Y...you'll c..catch your d...d...death."

"Well, th...thank you, C...captain Obvious!" Dean snarked, grunting as he shifted his weight to favour his left leg.

Sam twisted onto his knees and pushed himself unsteadily to his feet. Water streamed from hidden pools within his jacket. As he leant down to help Dean up, he did a double take as his glance fell upon the now almost flattened form of the inflatable reindeer. Oblivious to his brother's sarcasm, Sam continued, with eyes held wide.

"D...Dean, is that what I th...th...think it is?"

"Well if y...you think it's a b..big-assed, bl...blow up reindeer. Then, you betcha, Sammy! R...rescued from the d...depths by a fr...freakin' red-nosed r...reindeer!"

Dean shuddered as his gaze fell resignedly to the crushed beast lying by his knees. His eyes lit up briefly and, trembling, he reached behind him for the sharp knife secured at his belt.

"Dude, h...help me here! Hold R...R...Rudolph st...steady."

Confused, Sam grasped the cold, wet, stiff, heavy duty PVC skin and Dean proceeded to slice it from below the jaw right the way down the middle. Hands slipping as he pried the cold-hardened plastic apart.

Even though he was freezing his ass off, Sam couldn't help but notice the nametag around the blow up Bambi's neck.

"Dean?"

"Ummm?"

"Actually he's C...Cupid."

Dean looked at his brother like he had lost his mind. "D...dude, does it matter?"

Sam's pale face coloured slightly in disorientated embarrassment. "Well it m...might to him."

"Wh...whatever, dude. Just h...help me up, already?" Dean shook his head in disbelief.

They clung to each other as Dean attempted to regain his feet, bringing the reindeer with him as he moved.

"W...w...windbreak!"

He announced proudly in reply to Sam's questioning gaze, carefully re-sheathing the deadly blade.

"J...just like Han Solo rescuing L...Luke in ‘The Empire Strikes Back', well ‘cepting that he g...gutted a tauntaun with L...L...Luke's L...lightsaber, to keep them w...warm!"

Sam's face creased in bemusement as understanding dawned on him.

"And you call m...me a g...geek?"

"Wh...what, Sammy? Essential s...survival skills!"

Together they rearranged themselves under the sheltering PVC hide. It was icy cold and wet but more than capable of keeping the wind from the two seriously suffering Winchester boys.

Sam grabbed a handful of Dean's belt, hitching the other's left arm over his own broad shoulder. He felt the constant tremors that wracked his brother's body, and peered through the snow ahead, trying to locate the best route up to the snow covered path.

"D...Dean? Any idea h...how far it is b...back to the tree?"

"Nah, Sam. I took a sh...sh...short cut on the way down, remember?"

Dean turned to locate the waterfall behind him, and then looked back to the jumble of rocks ahead, face locked in concentration.

"Don't think it's too f...far. J...just up there where the sl...slope levels out a little."

He pointed with his chin.

Together they stumbled the short distance across the polished flint and granite of the river's border to the larger boulders that marked the climb up the side, to the path. The eight or so paces had already taken their toll on the elder brother's injured knee, and by the time they stood searching for the easiest route over the silent sentinels that lined the river side, the only thing keeping him on his feet was the towering giant beside him. At least the activity had gone a small way to warming them both.

"Looks like this's about the lowest point." He glanced down dubiously at his brother's knee.

"Dude! Quit staring at m...me. ‘M okay!" Dean gritted his teeth against the pain.

"Sit!" Sam ordered, "I'll be r...right back." He propped his scowling sibling against one of the lower rocks, then clambered unsteadily over the slick rocks up to the top of the path.

"Dean? Can you st...stand up and g...give me your hand? I'll h...help pull you up. Just drop C...Cupid."

He smirked down at his brother unable to resist.

"I know you're unnaturally fond of the b...big sparkly guy, d...dude, but don't worry, I'll come back down for him, I p...promise."

Dean was, for once, too tired to give as good a he got, but a slight smile crinkled the corner of his mouth as he pushed himself, one-legged off the granite. Hugging the unwieldy, plastic robe closer about himself, he stood, wavering, as the gusts buffeted around him.

‘I can do this! I can do this!' He chanted silently, raising his eyes heavenward to find his goal. Sam's long arm dangled down towards him, hand outstretched.

‘Dammit, I gotta do this!' He placed his left palm firmly against the rock face, balanced squarely on his right leg, and then reluctantly released his hold on the faux-reindeer hide. He stretched up, fingertips just brushing against Sam's as Cupid dropped away behind him. He felt the world resume its slow spinning as he shuffled painfully, closer to the wall. Sam leant out further over the ledge and their hands finally contacted.

"I'll pull you up, okay? Just try and help me, push up with your good leg, alright?" Sam's voice instructed.

Dean simply nodded up at the looming figure above him, he scrabbled for a grip on the rock face with his left hand, felt the strain as Sam hauled steadily on his right. As his good leg left the ground he swung awkwardly, twisting to prevent the damaged left knee from colliding with the wall. His numb, sock-clad feet scrabbling futilely as he sought to gain purchase on the rock face. Only the knowledge that having to do it all over again would be even worse, kept him going. Well, that and Sam's determined grip on his hand.

Together they struggled, cursing and slipping, Dean losing the battle to keep his savagely burning knee away from the jutting rocks. Agony burst through him afresh as his right foot slipped, the toes smashing violently into the cold uncaring granite.

"Goddamned sonofa…'"

He spluttered, as red lights burst before his startled eyes.

Sam grimaced as grasping fingers ground painfully into the flesh of his hands, he heard the frantic intake of breath and he redoubled his efforts.

Eventually, Dean's bruised and battered head drew level with the pathway and, gratefully, he threw his arm up and over onto the path above. His broad shoulders straining at the taut material of his still damp t-shirt as he sucked in great gulps of the icy, stinging air.

The tight grip disengaged silently from his hand to be re-instated moments later in his belt, and with a mighty heave, Sam dragged the older man up onto the snow-crested slope beside him. They both lay there, shattered beyond belief, with a quickly growing snowstorm building around them. Above, the clear, cold moonlight was broken with ever-increasing frequency by the fast moving approach of the heavy snow-laden, clouds.

Sam lay back, regarding the threatening sky with increasing concern as, beside him, Dean slowly curled himself into a ball, eyes squeezed tightly shut against the fresh onslaught of the wind driven snow on the open track. Lying on his side, rocking, he hugged his knees to his chest, grinding his teeth, as he tried in vain to prevent the anguished groans from passing between his blue tinged lips.

"Oh god!" Sam whispered, shrugging out of his own soaking jacket and laying the heavy cloth across his brother, attempting to keep the bitter wind from him, as he lay exposed to the frigid night air.

"'M sorry, Sammy." Dean murmured, distractedly, as he finally lost his battle against the rising tide of pain and exhaustion that pulled him down into its warm, dark embrace.

"Ah, no. Dammit, Dean. I need to get you someplace warm. Like now! Come on, man! H...help me out here."

Nothing penetrated the thick fog that shrouded his awareness, as Dean's overly abused body tumbled into shutdown mode. He never felt the rough shaking of his shoulder, nor the hands that gathered him up and carried his dead weight, slipping and sliding, desperately up the ice-strewn track, back to the shelter of the majestic spruce. Never felt the scratch of soft fir sprays against his face as Sam struggled on ice-numbed feet, under the low-lying boughs and out of the cutting winds of the gale that accompanied the approaching storm.

Sam stumbled, struggling under the load of his comatose brother, back up the track, towards the bottom of the steep slope. The moonlight, which had earlier lit the path with startling clarity, was now concealed behind a glowering bank of cloud that lumbered ominously across the sky.

Panting heavily, muscles straining, he huffed out clouds of misting breath that were instantly whipped away by the harsh wind that harried him along the narrow track. Blinking furiously to clear his streaming eyes, he peered into the gloom, searching for the low sweeping branches of the white spruce where they had earlier set up camp.

“Dammit, Dean. I'm sorry, dude! I gotta put you down, just for a minute. I can't see a damn thing and all the damned trees look the same, anyway!”

Lines of worry etched his face as he searched for somewhere safe to lay his precious burden. Suddenly his booted foot caught on something across the path, something lying partially concealed under a fresh drifting of snow. He staggered to a halt, ready to move around the obstruction, unwilling to risk a fall on the tapering track, he stepped back just as a shaft of pure moonlight broke through the cloud cover, momentarily lighting the area as bright as day.

Sam's questing eyes picked out the indentations of footsteps, the dark shadows casting relief starkly n the moonlight. The obstacle at his feet, revealed as the sleeve of what could only be Dean's leather jacket, discarded on the pathway before them. A wider sweep of the area revealed the results of Sam's previous slide down to the edge of the chasm, the handle of the dented metal mug just visible where Sam had scrabbled for purchase on the slippery slope.

“Okay, looks like we're in business, dude! I guess we're nearly home for the night.”

Gratefully, Sam sank to his knees beside the ground hugging branches, the glimpse of moonlight all he'd needed to re-orientate himself. He lowered Dean carefully down and grasped him under the shoulders, hauling the unconscious body up onto his lap. He shrugged under the lowest boughs and shuffling backwards, worked his way into the concealed den.

Instantly the shriek of the wind around his head dropped, replaced by the low creaks and groans of ancient wood swaying in time with the gusting currents of air. He knelt, sucking in huge gulps of the dry, spruce scented air, ears still ringing with the echoes of the gale outside.

Fatigued muscles shook as he pulled the small flashlight from his inner pocket, praying it would live up to its waterproof claims. He pressed the rubber switch and slumped in relief as the tiny torch illuminated their surroundings, the bright light causing long shadows to leap up into the canopy of brown needles that just brushed against the top of his snow-splattered head. He gazed in exhausted relief at the soft, deep carpet of discarded needles from years past and, more importantly, at the gentle curve of the sweeping boughs that reached down to the ground, providing shelter from both wind and snow.

Sam carefully manoeuvred the ice cold form of his brother back into the ‘nest' he had made for him earlier, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. He wiped a bloodstained hand across his forehead, rubbing at his temples, attempting to stop the ringing noise. Shivering violently now, he blew onto his raw, grazed fingers, rubbing them together and wincing at the cruel ache that accompanied the returning warmth and blood flow.

"Dean, I'm gonna get these wet clothes off you, man. Then I'm gonna go get your jacket, it's just outside. When I get back I'll get the fire going in no time, I promise."

He transferred the Maglite to his mouth and with fingers prickling from the cold, he peeled off the dark stained socks, wincing as he revealed the bloodied, broken nails, and spreading bruising on the two largest toes on the right foot.

"Holy crap, Dean!"

Sam ran his trembling hands through his frost-whitened hair.

‘Jesus! There's no way you're walking out of here on that tomorrow even if we can get your boots back on.'

Now that he had stopped moving, the bitter cold of his soaking clothes began to penetrate his exhausted frame. He fumbled to undo Dean's belt buckle. At any second he expected the sardonic tone of his sibling's voice instructing him to get his hands off the merchandise, but soft rasping breaths were the only accompaniment to his shuddering efforts.

Waves of dizziness rolled over him and black spots danced before his eyes.

"No, no, no, don't even think it." He begged, leaning forwards onto his hands as he sucked in deep breaths fighting back the dizziness that assailed him.

"Okay, this isn't working. Dean? I'm going out just to get your jacket in here; I'll be back in two minutes."

He spoke aloud to reassure himself as much as to inform his comatose brother. Gently he rested his hand against his brother's forehead, watching for any sign of acknowledgment. Getting none, he scuffled out into the ever-worsening night, breath catching in his throat as the winds buffeted him brusquely.

He played the flashlight beam across the ground and locating the jacket, complete with his brother's heavy shirts inside, quickly bent to retrieve them, batting at them to remove the thick layer of snow. Turning to leave, the narrow beam glinted upon the handle of the tin mug, as it lay wedged against the roots of a stunted holly bush.

Sam fell to his knees, unwilling to risk another unplanned dip, and reached down the icy slope. He managed to hook his fingers around the handle, and rose triumphantly, brushing off the fresh coating of snow as he hunched his way back to the shelter of their tree. Shivering uncontrollably, he ducked low and gratefully entered the small oasis of calm beneath the sheltering boughs.

He shrugged from his jacket, shirt, boots and jeans, throwing them to the other side of the trunk and quickly pulled one of his brother's shirts from where it nestled inside the heavy leather jacket. The steady light from his flashlight, played across the ridged muscles of his tense abdomen highlighting the dark bruising from his recent plunge into the river, as he shrugged into the cold, but mercifully dry, undershirt. He sighed with pleasure as the soft material enfolded his bare upper body. With hands that shook, he grabbed his brother's rucksack, and offering up a prayer of thanks for the fire he had already set in the cleared area, he grappled around for the matches.

The sudden flare from the match and the comforting aroma of the saltpetre igniting did much to calm his fraying nerves. The flame flickered, dulling briefly as he offered it to the small pile of wood shavings. Sam had chosen not to start off with lighter fluid, as the whole underside of the tree was bone dry and the oils in the spruce would need little persuasion to burn. He'd been careful to clear all the needles from the immediate area of the impromptu fire-pit to ensure there was no accidental spread.

Greedily, the little flame licked at the curls of bark, the burst of light and sudden puff of heat as it caught and spread was a little taste of heaven to Sam. Concentrating, he fed the flames, gradually adding larger kindling, allowing it time to catch before adding the bigger pieces of broken branches. Within minutes, a small, fiercely burning fire lit the cosy scene, the smoke rising to filter away into the canopy overhead. Flickering light bounced off the eerily moving fronds, and shadows leapt in crazy relief as warmth began to suffuse the hideaway.

wWw

The ghost of the Christmas Hiker peered in from the howling tempest, understanding the brother’s need for shelter, vaguely remembering what it felt like to feel the pleasure of soft heat on cold skin. He knew they both needed to rest, could see that if they were to be able to do what he needed them to do they had, at least, to be able to struggle on a few more miles. After that they could rest all they wanted and maybe, finally, so could he. So, he kept his vigil. The vestiges of his earthly body flying like decaying banners in the wind and snow as he shied away from the orange glow emanating from the safety of the tree, terrified of the devastating effect the flames may have on the dry, musty tatters he had become.

wWw

Sam turned back to his slowly stirring brother, confident that the fire had taken a hold. Awkwardly, he climbed over the still form and pushed him closer to the small flames. Grunting with the effort, he eased Dean into a sitting position and struggled against his cold-stiffened fingers to pull the ruined T-shirt from his brothers body.

Dean sagged heavily against his brother's chest as Sam threw the T-shirt onto the pile of wet clothes. The undulating light revealed the full set of mottled marks on his brother's pale torso; Sam eased him up and flinched at the livid bruising and fresh bleeding on his collarbone, ribs and back. The deep scratches from his original fall from the bluff, reopened by the rough buffeting of the waves.

Gently, he draped the chequered, soft flannel over-shirt over the scratches and gouges on his brother's back, and fought to place uncooperative arms within the sleeves. Dean groaned, almost in pleasure, as the warm, dry cloth contacted his ice-cold body.

"Hey, Dean. You back with me, buddy?" Sam tried hopefully.

But Dean just nestled into his brother's neck and mumbled something unintelligible.

"Whoa, whoa, dude. Come on! Wake up, man!"

Dean's head lolled towards the sound of Sam's voice, his eyelids fluttering as he struggled back to the surface. His eyes flew open as he lurched forwards, dazed emerald, blinking in confusion at the scene before him.

"Sam?" He panted bewildered. "Sammy, what the he...? Where...?"

His brow wrinkled in deep confusion before he gasped and slumped back heavily against Sam’s chest, sucking in stilted breaths as the cold penetrated his awareness and violent tremors began to wrack his exhausted frame.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, Dean." Sam comforted quietly, "We're fine, we're back under the tree. Just lie back. Just try and relax. There you go." He eased him down into the bed of needles.

"C...c...cold, S...S...Sammy!" He stammered through teeth that chattered.

"Don't worry, you'll soon warm up, now. Come on, I gotta get you outta those jeans, Dean."

"In y...your dr...dreams, Pr...Pr...Princess!"

Dean feebly swatted at his brother's cold hands, then groaned at his own feeble attempts to struggle free of the wet leather of his belt with fingers that refused to cooperate.

"Here, Dean, let me help." Sam intoned quietly, attempting to minimize the damage to his brother's dignity.

"Get outta here, S...Samantha. I've been dressing myself since I was f...four years old. Don't need you to do it now!" He cried out as the deep gashes on his bruised knuckles caught on the cold, stiff denim.

"How's the knee feeling?"

"Just freakin' peachy, Sam. Dammit, hurts like a sonofabitch!" Dean panted as he raised his hips trying to shimmy out of the wet, clinging material.

Wordlessly, Sam grabbed a hold of the jeans and gently eased them down past his swollen knee. A deep gash oozed a steady trickle of blood, which ran into the loosely clinging bandage, fresh bruising in furious shades of blue, yellow and purple stood out on his pale flesh.

"Lemme get that wet dressing off you, it's only gonna make matters worse. It'll be dry by morning and I'll re-wrap it for you then. You've torn your leg quite badly, Dean. It really needs stitches but I haven't got anything to suture it with. I'll sort it when we get to the car tomorrow."

"Yeah, whatever, Sam."


Dean replied sleepily as he lay with eyes pressed tightly shut, breathing through the pain as he'd been taught to do. Sam smoothed out the crinkled space blanket and tucked it around the quivering figure.

He added more sticks to the fast burning fire and a fresh burst of warmth filled the interior. Gathering all the wet clothes, he shuffled to the other side of the tree-trunk and proceeded to hang the dripping items from the living boughs, as close to the flickering flames as it was safe to.

"So, lemme see what food you got in your bag, Dean? Gimme a couple of minutes and I'll see if I can rustle us up something to eat." His face lit up as his glance fell upon the retrieved mug.

He scooted back to the fire and emptied their meagre provisions into a small pile. He tipped water into the mug and set it close to the fire to warm.

"So, Dean, what's it to be? M&M's or Oaty Granola?"

"Not hungry. ‘M tired."

"No you don't, Dean! Come on, wake up. You gotta eat something before you go to sleep!"

Dean shook his head to clear the encroaching darkness.

"’M sorry, Sammy.” Dean's defeated voice drifted quietly across the small clearing. “‘M sorry I lost it for a while back there!"


"Dude, don't be crazy. Who do you think pulled me outta the water when I was half drowned? You saved me, you idiot! So, stop with the apologies or, so help me, I'm gonna spend the entire night listing every time you have saved me, and kill you with squirming embarrassment!"

Dean smiled tiredly, the gold reflecting from the flames lighting his eyes with emerald flecked fires in the darkness.

"Okay, I guess. No more apologies."

Sam smiled softly in return.

"Good, now sit up for me and eat some of these. They'll get your blood sugar back up and make you feel better."

He helped Dean to a sitting position and dropped a handful of the brightly coloured sweets into his brother's cupped hand.

Dean dutifully placed the candy in his mouth and closed his eyes, a look of contentment spreading across his pale features.

"Dean, listen to me. I'm gonna have to take a look at your foot, okay. It looks like you've smashed your toes up on the rocks. I need to wrap it up but I think it's gonna hurt, bro."

"'Kay, Sammy." Dean yawned round his mouthful of M&M's. The warmth of the fire comforting him, lulling him slowly to sleep.

Sam cleaned and wrapped the worst of Dean's increasing inventory of wounds with barely an expletive from his increasingly drowsy sibling. The toes were surely broken and Sam knew he should be worrying about how the hell Dean was going to walk with a smashed up knee on one side and two broken toes on the other. But, somehow, all he could think about was how good it would be to rest his head down and close his eyes.

Diligently he fed the fire, banking it with some of the thicker logs and then, unable to keep his eyes open any longer, he shuffled around to his brothers far side, spread the second space blanket over himself and burrowed deep into the thick carpet of dry fronds and needles, curling protectively around his brothers exposed side. He sighed contentedly; revelling in the warmth, relaxing as he listened to the gentle pops and crackles from the life saving fire and the sounds of his brother’s steady breathing beside him. He smiled; it was a sound that had signified reassurance and safety for almost his whole life. Within moments he had sunk gratefully into a deep and dreamless sleep.

wWw

Soft, dappled light filtered through the dense overhead matrix, gradually filling their cosy den with a soft light that heralded the dawn. Sam groaned, shivering under the foil blanket, he rolled over onto his back and lay regarding his current surroundings. The small fire had burnt out and any lingering warmth had long since dissipated. He sat up and stretched, aching muscles protesting the movement. Soft snores issued forth from his still sleeping brother and Sam quickly set about re-kindling the fire. The mug lay undisturbed where he had set it to warm and he moved it out of the way as the small flames spread.

As welcoming heat once again spread through the shelter, Sam realised what was different. The rising sound of the gale outside, the creaks and groans of the ancient spruce and the rushing of the wind, which had been a constant backdrop, was gone. All was silent. He crawled to the edge of the den and tried to push through to the outside. A wall of solid white greeted him.

Snow had drifted in the storm of the night before, and a deep bank rested up against the tree. As Sam pushed through, his eyes fell upon a glistening vista, the bright sun shone down on a crystal clear morning. Everything was covered in a thick layer of shimmering white. The deep snow, pinning the low sweeping branches of the White Spruce, had effectively formed a wind-proof barrier, sealing them into a warm, safe haven for the night.

"Well, I'll be damned!" He mused quietly.

He ducked back inside, quickly, rubbing his hands together, the wind had dropped but so had the temperature. Outside was bitterly cold.

Beside the fire, water was starting to steam gently from the mug, Sam hesitated then sprinkled half a Granola bar into it, mixing it with a slender twig, then he threw in a handful of M&M's for taste and stirred until they melted. He breathed in the sweet aroma appreciatively, and then sipped at the foul looking brew. He looked across at the pallid features of his still sleeping sibling and settled down next to the fire. He knew Dean would be in a world of hurt when he awoke and couldn’t bring himself to disturb his peaceful slumber.

Heat seeped into his body from both the small fire that crackled cheerily beside him and from the steaming mug that he cupped in his stinging hands. He slurped the oddly textured beverage and shuddered with pleasure as its warmth and sweetness flooded his energy deprived body. Yawning, he stretched across to the perimeter of their lair and scooped a huge handful of fresh snow into the mug and set it to heat by the flames.

As it heated, he shrugged his way into his now blissfully dry clothing, warm and smelling sweetly of wood smoke. As he laced his heavy boots, the steam began to drift in whispers from the battered mug, he sprinkled the rest of the granola bar into the liquid and threw in a handful of the brightly colored sweets, stirring it then setting it back by the fire.

"Dean? Hey, Dean! Time to wake up, man."

The soft snoring stopped, replaced by a low growl, and then a reluctant gasp of pain as Dean turned onto his side, jarring his many injuries.

“Holy crap!” He wheezed, rolling onto his back as he shifted to ease the flares of pain igniting from his stiffened knee.

“Morning, sleeping beauty!” Sam grinned across the clearing as Dean cracked open a bleary eye.

"Morning, Sam." He yawned widely, "Where in hell’s name are we?" Dean sat up gingerly rubbing tentatively at his aching head.

"Don't you remember last night? I fell into the river, you pulled me out! We just about made it back up here under the tree."

Comprehension slowly filtered across Dean’s face as memories of the night before trickled back.

Silently, Sam passed the mug across to his brother.

"Dammit, so we're still up the mountain, huh?" Dean sniffed suspiciously at the offensive looking brew, scowling before taking a hesitant sip.

He quirked an eyebrow, "Not bad, Sammy. Not bad at all!"

"Yeah, we're still up the mountain and we need to find a way down today. We've got half a packet of M&M's and 3 Granola bars left. The freaky-assed ghost is still tailing us, your leg’s still busted up, and there's been the mother of all snowstorms during the night. There's at least 2 ft of snow out there!" He rushed on, giving his brother no chance to speak. "How about I hike out of here and get us some help, Dean?"

Dean spluttered into the sweet concoction.

"No, dammit! Just not gonna happen, Sammy. Ma knee's just fine now. Just needed a little rest is all. You're not going wandering off on your own in a whiteout, especially not with ‘Floaty the hiker boy' still on the prowl. It's just not happening, dude!"

"There's no way you can walk on that leg especially seeing that you tore a 2 inch gash in your thigh and somehow broke two toes last night."

"I did?"

Dean pushed the space blanket down and inspected his left leg. Tentatively, he flexed his knee in an attempt to reassure his brother that it really was okay, only to have the resurgence of last night's grating sensation assail him. Added to that, the jagged gash re-opened its bloody mouth and warm, wet blood oozed onto his pale thigh, the blood vessels no longer constricted by the ice-cold water. He dug his nails into his palm to keep from crying out.

"See, right as rain!" He rasped.

Sam looked on in amazement, and reached forward to pull the blanket from Dean's feet.

"Okay, Captain Courageous! What do you make of those beauties? Let's see if you're still ‘right as rain' when you've got your boots back on?"

Dean's face paled as he looked in horror at the gory mess on the end of his right foot and a wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm him. He looked sheepishly at his brother and whispered.

"Okay, so I might need a Band-Aid if you've got one, Sam."

Sam snorted in disbelief.

"Dean, you're hopeless! I could make it back to the Impala much quicker without you and get some help back here."

"And what the hell happens if you fall and break your leg. First rule of survival, Sammy, is we stick together. I'll be fine once I get going."

Sam gave up, knowing his argument was already lost, knew it before he'd even started.

"Well at least let me strap your knee back up. I can't sort out that cut here but I'll wrap it tight to stop the bleeding, and we'll worry about sutures later. There's nothing I can do for broken toes anyway."

Sam turned his back and shuffled around the tree trunk to retrieve the dried bandage as Dean sank back into his cradle of still warm spruce, relieved that he had persuaded his brother to his point of view.

"Anyway, bro. You'll be pleased to know your Christmas save theory is still intact!" Sam announced, smiling tightly as he reached for Dean's wounded leg.

"It is?" Dean looked suspiciously at his brother as he assumed full-on mother-hen mode.

"Yeah, if we'd been out in this last night, there's no way we could have survived. So, dude, looks like last night we were ‘saved' by a huge Christmas tree!"

“’Kay, Sammy. Enough’s enough! Let’s just get down off this freaky-assed mountain and back to some sorta normal civilisation. I’ve had enough of this Christmas save crap to last me a lifetime!”

Ends

And so it continues… at least they’re both warm, rested and have had a good nights sleep. I so didn’t want to come out from under that tree; it was such a lovely place to be with two weary Winchester boys!! However, we need to get them off this mountain, so please join us tomorrow for the next instalment.

We’d love to know what you think of it so far…Jane and Bev x

I just happen to find your story and I'm loving every minute of it. :P

What a great story it is, so I'll be waiting for your update,can't wait!!!! :cheer

This would be a great supernatural episode! :clap

Hiya Denise69,

Thank you for your lovely comments; we’re so pleased you’re enjoying the story.
There’s still a fair way to go so we hope you’ll be able to stick with the boys till we get them back to safety…


The 12 Saves of Christmas - Chapter 8


The brothers resume their painful journey downhill but the haunting sounds of the forest bring back painful memories for Dean.



Save Seven – Icicles by Birdie


December 23rd 10.00am


They had been walking for nearly two hours now but had only made it about a mile along the frozen track. The going would have been tough if they were in peak form but the last 24 hours had taken its toll on both the Winchesters. Dean was fairing worse and Sam glanced across at his brother through the swirling snow and knew instantly that he was tiring quickly, his sore foot adding to his earlier injury toll. There was simply no way Dean was going to be able to make it the further 5 or 6 miles back to the safe haven of the Impala.

Not that Dean would admit it, of course. Well, not unless he was a bit concussed like he was last night. However, the rest under their ‘saviour' spruce had done them both good. Enough so that Sam had been convinced, against his better judgement, to abandon their temporary shelter and set off walking for the Impala, despite the blizzard.

Sam had been nervous; knowing that Dean's knee probably was in bad shape and that his concussion was only rested rather than resolved. He had really wanted his brother to sit tight and wait in the relative comfort of their arboreal hidey-hole whilst he hiked out and found some help, but Dean would have none of it.

"No, not gonna happen. Ma knee's just fine now, Sammy. Just needed a little rest is all. You're not going wandering off on your own in a whiteout, especially not with ‘Floaty the hiker boy' still on the prowl. It's just not happening, dude!"

Dean had then flexed his knee to show Sam that the few hours of sleep they had managed had miraculously cured his injuries. It was a convincing demonstration which he knew would reassure Sam, and if it were not for the sensation of a myriad glass shards in his knee capsule and the sudden unexpected flow of warm blood from the gash to his thigh, he, too, would have been convinced. However, he was practised enough at hiding pain that his smile was unbroken, even as his knee throbbed steadily.

That effectively ended any argument Sam had and so it was that they had put out the remains of their fire, packed their meagre remaining provisions and set of out into the near white-out to walk to the welcome familiarity of the Impala.


wWw


"Sam?"

Dean didn't look at his brother as he mouthed the question in a puff of breath that disappeared into the swirling snow. His eyes remained resolutely on the few inches of ground that he could see before him, and that he dare not look up from for fear of falling.

His knee was sore beyond words, each step grinding with a musical crepitus that set his teeth on edge but at least the pressure bandage to his thigh was still stemming the flow of blood. Add to that, his broken toes throbbed like a toothache and he was generally unhappy on his exhausted legs.

Sam looked to his left at Dean's snow bedecked form and swatted at the coating of white that clung to his own long bangs.

"What is it, Dean?"

"Do you remember the black dog that nearly had me for dinner that time in Minnesota?"

Sam smiled and shook his head, sending little avalanches of cold, wet white stuff down the upturned collar of his inadequate jacket, shivering as he replied.

"Random, Dean!"

Icy green eyes briefly met warmer hazel ones before plunging back to the track as they plodded on.

"Yeah, I know, but do ya?"

Sam nodded.

"Yeah... yeah, I do. Well, I remember Dad telling me about it after he virtually carried you back to the car where you'd left me."

Sam looked in mock irritation at his stumbling sibling and Dean smiled tiredly.

"Was for your own safety, bro. You were too little then to be much help."

Sam conceded the point and pressed on.

"It was a big, vicious sonofabitch, I remember Dad saying, and it damn near turned you into puppy chow. What made you mention it now?"

Dean stopped and leaned heavily on the rough-hewn crutch Sam had fashioned for him. His breath, though he tried to disguise it, came in gasps and even though it was mighty cold, Sam could see the sweat running from his bruised temple.

"You know that sorta...well...howling we been hearing all over the place?"

Sam nodded, his eyes involuntarily scanning the surrounding foliage as he waited for Dean to have enough breath to continue.

"Well, I know it's not, but that howling kinda puts me in mind of that black dog."

"I wondered if it was just me hearing it."

Sam's earnest gaze held his brother's, as Dean shook his head detaching the little plumes of ice crystals from his long lashes.

"Nope. Me too. Heard it a few times now. First when ya pulled me outta the holly and we were starting back up the butte."

Sam nodded and added.

"After the damned robin pecked me half to death..."

He touched the little wounds on his forehead.

"Yup! And again just before we found the big spruce to shelter under."

Dean finished, looking up at Sam's serious face.

"I wasn't sure you'd heard it, too. You were pretty out of it last night, Dean."

"I know but I heard it."

The elder Winchester raised his chin to the near impossible to discern pathway as he spoke, indicating that they should keep moving. Sam reluctantly took the lead, walking at a pace far slower than he normally would and knowing that even that was currently way too fast for Dean.

They walked on for a few minutes in silence, each lost in their own thoughts before Sam spoke again.

"So, you think it's a black dog?"

"No...no, I don't think it is. I was just saying it put me in mind of the sounds the dog made."

As he replied, the crutch slipped a little on the icy ground and Dean's knee twisted as he struggled for balance. He hiccupped in pain and Sam made a grab for his shoulder to prevent him slipping further.

"God damn..."

Dean leaned his head briefly against Sam's shoulder, waiting for the bright sparks of agony that danced on the inside of his closed eyes to fade.

"You never really did tell me about the black dog."

Sam hoped the reminiscence would distract his suffering brother from his pain, and Dean knew exactly what he was doing but played along. He pushed himself upright and they lurched forward again, shoulder to shoulder through the driving snow.

"Well. You remember that Dad had been after the dog for weeks? It had taken 4 victims before we arrived and had another two whilst he was trying to hunt it down. That last one tore Dad up real bad. The kid was just about your age and, damn, if we were only yards from the emergency room when the poor kid died."

Sam watched Dean's throat work against the lump in it and remembered how the pair of them had come back in from the Impala, covered in blood and stunned into silence. Sam knew something bad had happened but also knew enough not to ask questions. His Dad had busied himself making dinner; his demeanour too upbeat to be believable, and Dean had disappeared into the shower to emerge a long while later, his eyes red-rimmed from crying. Again, Sam had held his tongue, even when Dean said he wasn't hungry and had gone to sit quietly on the old sofa as he'd dutifully joined his Dad at the table.

Sam remembered he had lasted about 3 minutes before slipping softly from the table and padding over to the sofa. He'd wormed his way in against Dean's side, lifting his brother's lifeless arm and snuggling it around him. And there he'd sat as Dean had laid his head against the top of Sam's. He couldn't remember any words being said, but he knew that Dean's hot tears had trickled through his long hair as his strong arms had finally wrapped around Sam and held him desperately close.

Sam shook himself from his reverie as he realised that Dean was speaking again.

"So, we went back out, shotguns primed with consecrated iron rounds. You came along ‘cause neither of us wanted to leave you on your own at the motel but you really were too little to manage the snow."

Dean looked at his positively ginormous baby brother and smirked.

"Too little. Go figure!"

Sam smiled down in return.

"We stalked the damn thing for hours. It was freezing..."

The plumes of breath from Dean's mouth emphasised his words.

"Snow was maybe even worse than this and we kept hearing the damn thing howl but we just couldn't find it!"

Sam noted that Dean was getting slower and slower in his pace as he talked and every sentence was interspersed with either a hastily pulled in breath or a gasp of pain. He knew Dean was gonna have to rest soon but, as yet, he had seen nothing to really offer them much shelter from the blizzarding snow.

"And it wasn't just a howl, Sammy. Not like a normal dog does, or even a wolf."

He paused, searching deeply for the right words.

"There was something...unworldly about that noise, Sam. It was eerie. Like the howling we heard last night, you knew something ‘not of this world' was speaking."

Dean swayed to a stop and looked into his brother's eyes, seeking to see if Sam understood what he was trying to say.

"Yeah, I remember the noise the black dog made that night. I locked all the doors and hunkered down on the back seat under those old blankets and prayed for you and Dad to come back in one piece. I knew it was something born of evil and it scared the crap outta me."

Dean blinked slowly and something akin to relief played across his face. Sam honoured the silence, letting his brother remember that night. It wasn't often that Dean shared his past experiences with Sam and he found himself wanting to hear about this event that had shaped Dean's life.

"Anyway, finally the dog found us. Knocked dad down and out for the count and then stalked me back up against the rock wall of the valley we were in. I lost my sawn-off and my best silver knife in the scuffle, though I did slice its hind paw before it ripped it outta my hands."

Dean smiled at his minor triumph, blinking as the snowflakes blew into his wide, green eyes. Sam angled his body round, subtly trying to shield his brother from the worst of the weather as he continued.

"What happened next, Dean?"

The elder Winchester closed his eyes briefly, accessing the memories.

"I remember it had me down on my back in the snow and it had bitten me up real good."

Dean winced unconsciously, his hand gliding down his denim clad thigh to his stiff and swollen knee.

"I'd tried to crawl under a bit of a rim of overhanging rocks but really it wasn't a big enough space and the black dog had me by the arm, dragging me out. I was screaming for dad, and kicking and punching at it as best I could but it just kept snarling and slavering as it tugged me further out into the open. It let go my sleeve and I remember lying there, holding my arm as it dripped blood onto the churned up snow and staring into eyes so dark..."

Dean's voice trailed off, his words lost to the terrifying memories and Sam waited quietly, shivering with both cold and the return of the terror he had felt as that child in the Impala, hearing that distant, unearthly howling. After a few moments Sam prompted softly.

"And?"

Dean offered no response.

"Dean?"

Sam reached out and took his brother's arm gently, only to have Dean start violently, jarring his various injuries, his wide eyes briefly showing his fear to the world. Composure quickly returned though and he hiccupped the pain softly into place as he returned back to the present.

"Sorry."

Sam squeezed his arm.

"'S'okay."

Dean steadied himself, recovering his brittle air of control.

"So, there I am on my back, black dog stood over me, its foul breath in my face, teeth inches from my throat and I hear dad's voice shouting my name and he's up running toward me, my sawn off in his hands.

"'Dean! Curl up!' he yelled."

Sam raised his eyebrows quizzically and Dean rushed on.

"'Curl up in a ball son!' and I did. And he raised the shotgun high above the black dog and blasted the icicle covered rock wall above me. The icicles were huge and they scythed down stabbing through the body of the black dog and pinning it to the ground. It howled like a sonofabitch, Sammy..."

Sam nodded, remembering that sound even as he shivered under his covers on the back seat of the Impala.

"And then dad was pulling me out from under it and he blasted it with the iron rounds. It took three or four rounds to finally kill it but I guess the icicles ensured it stayed put long enough for him to finish it off."

Sam could hear the relief in Dean's words even now many years after the events of that snowy night, and as he watched he could see Dean's body shaking at the memories.

"After that I remember dad wrapping me up in his jacket, got blood all over it, while he torched the dog's body and then him carrying me back to the car."

Sam sucked in his breath before he picked up the thread.

"Yeah, I can see him now, emerging from the snowstorm, you clutched to his chest and blood spattering the snow as I fumbled the door open. I was so scared you were dead. Dad said, ‘No, Kiddo, he's just a bit bitten up', settled you in my lap and drove like a maniac through the snow to the emergency room."

Dean smiled.

"Sorry I scared you, Sammy."

His voice was hoarse and Sam shook his head.

"Its fine, Dean. All the way there dad kept saying ‘Don't worry Sammy, the icicles saved him'. I never understood it till now."

"Weird huh?"

Dean grinned.

"Yeah, yeah it is."

"Hey!"

Dean teetered precariously on his wobbly legs as a note of excited energy flared briefly in his voice.

"I'll be damned! That was another bizarre ‘Christmas Save'!"

Sam shook his head in disbelief.

"Saved by Icicles?"

Dean snickered.

"Yeah, Sam. Hey, it could have been worse; it could have been Frosty the freakin' snowman!"

Ends


We hope you enjoyed the little flashback, maybe drop us a review to let us know. Seven saves down and five to go!!

thanks for another great update... can't wait till the next one which I hope is soon!! :cheer

:clap This keeps better and better. I can't help but wonder what that ghost is up to though and pray the poor Dean and Sam catch a break, and not anymore broken bones.

I wondered how you were going to work in the icicles since I don't think ghosts/spririts care if you stab them with a chunk of ice...beyond pointing and giggling at you.

gd update
walking in a blizzrd...i think sammy needs to be warmed up ;) :wub: :fire

Hi Y'all,

Thank you so much for the comments, it's so nice to hear that you're still with us and the boys as they continue their journey...

Denise69, We're so pleased that you're enjoying it, chapter 9 will follow very shortly. Thank you so much for leaving a review!

Aislinn, Thanks for your very kind words, we've just had another snow-fall here, and my car's just broken down so I'm feeling very sympathetic to those Winchester boys about now. You may have to keep wondering just what that ghost is about for a little while longer but we promise all will be revealed. I'm fairly certain there's no more broken bones for our boys, well not for a few chapters!! In fact it's about time they had a bit of good luck for a change.

Kyle, you're right, we had to be fairly inventive (not to mention totally insane) to weave all these saves in and the icicle save was no exception - hence those wonderfully useful flashbacks. We had some highly entertaining planning sessions putting this one together! Thanks for sticking with us and for the review.

Jared.is.fit, indeed Sammy could do with a severe warming up...Any volunteers!! Thanks for staying with us, we hope you enjoy the next chapter.

The Twelve Saves of Christmas - Chapter Nine


The brothers continue their struggle back to the Impala but it soon becomes apparent that Dean cannot make it without a little extra help. Christmas continues to be a joy for the hapless Winchester boys.




Save 8 - The Little Donkey by birdie


December 23rd 11.45am


They had resumed their slow trudge through the thickening snow, each a little lost in their thoughts of Christmases' past. Their pace was slow and as the snow began to tumble again from the pregnant clouds, they became quickly dusted with a frosting of icing sugar whiteness.

The snowball came out of nowhere, breaking Dean's thoughtful reverie to hit him squarely on the side of his head. It puffed in a mini detonation before disintegrating into cold tickles of ice that slithered under the collar of his T-shirt to continue their troublesome journey down his taut abdomen before dipping below the waistband of his jeans. The sudden cold made him gasp like a girl.

"Hey, no fair! Disabled here, remember?"

Dean snarked as he wobbled to a stop, scowling at Sam who was a few feet ahead of him doubled over with the mirth of his direct hit.

"Hey Dean. Who's Frosty the snowman now. Har-de-har!"

Sam laughed as he looked back at Dean, smiling at the look of mock outrage from his big brother. He strode back and rolled his eyes theatrically as he swept off the thick layer of powdery snow that diademed Dean's head, marvelling that his trade mark, dark blond spikes remained intact. So much for Dean's constant entreaties that hair gel was unknown to him!

"Leave it out, Sam!"

Dean squirmed out from under his brother's huge hands.

"Don't mess with the hair! Will you never learn? Ladies love the hair."

Snorting ensued as the younger Winchester surveyed the silent, abandoned landscape.

"And you're seeing lots of ladies out here are ya, bro?"

"Well, it always pays to be prepared, Sammy."

Dean retorted smugly, knocking Sam's hand away as he made another grab for his hair. The movement shifted his weight onto his unprepared, injured knee and torn thigh and they protested vigorously, reminding him that someone had replaced the usual joint surfaces with blazing hot coals. He tried to contain the agonised groan but it slipped from his slightly blued lips, stripping the grin instantly from his face. He rocked back quickly onto his other foot trying to decompress the explosion of pain in the swollen limb, only to find that suddenly loading his broken toes was equally as uncomfortable. His similarly sore foot failed to find anything more of a stable base and Sam watched in horror as, cart-wheeling his arms looking for the balance that eluded him, Dean fell gracelessly, yet again, onto his ass in the deep snow.

"Crap!"

Dean gasped with feeling as his hands encircled the patently incompetent knee and he rocked gently back and forwards as Sam knelt beside him, the easy smile of moments earlier replaced with sudden, serious concern as he rubbed at Dean's back trying to ease some of the all too apparent pain.


wWw


The spirit of the Christmas Hiker looked on as the elder Winchester recounted his memories. He watched the brothers' impromptu snow-ball bonding session with sympathy but mounting impatience. He needed them to be on their way and he found their lack of progress was eating away at him. He had waited so long and his tolerance was just about at an end.

Still, he could see that trying to terrorise them into increasing their pace was going to have no real effect, beaten up as they were, so a change of approach was called for.

The ghost gathered his loose ethereal tendrils and drifted away swiftly and silently, a plan forming in his moribund mind.


wWw

"S...Stop...gotta ...stop!"

Dean gasped and rolled his head breathlessly so he could look up, through the driving snow, into Sam's worried face. The older man literally hung in his brother's embrace, utterly dependent on his tenuous hold on Sam's shoulder and the supporting arm around his waist. His knee had finally given out entirely about another half a mile down the path and their progress was now dependant entirely on how fast Sam could essentially drag Dean through the deeply drifting snow.

"Lemme...down, S...Sammy."

Dean's words came out with little pants of fogging breath and Sam nodded, gently lowering him to the ground so he lay on his back in the snow. He knelt beside his stricken sibling and allowed his own breathing to slowly steady. After a minute or so Dean found the puff to speak again.

"Sam, you gotta leave me here and go find help."

He had managed to prop himself up on one elbow and was looking with earnest eyes at Sam's worried face.

"Like hell, Dean!"

Sam barked out in a disbelieving laugh.

"You seriously think I'm gonna leave you here in this blizzard and hike off into the distance whistling ‘Let It Snow'?"

Sam's face was flushed with both exertion and irritation at Dean's inability to put his own needs first. Most of all though, his colour came from his fear, fear because he really didn't know how he was gonna get them out of the situation he had walked them into by agreeing to leave the safety of the tree.

"You were all for leaving on your own when we were under the tree!"

Dean's pale face was all righteous indignation and Sam couldn't help but smile at the petulance of the pout. Suddenly, the situation seemed funny and Sam had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop him from laughing out loud.

"Well let's just examine that statement shall we, Dean?"

Dean humpfed and went to speak, but was halted when Sam held up a silencing hand.

"So, I think the key phrase we should concentrate on was ‘when we were safe under the tree'. See, the tree had ‘saved' us, Dean. It's a definite theme going on here. Can't you see it? The spirit of Christmas is on our side and determined to..."

Sam paused as Dean sat abruptly up in the drift, his green eyes blazing, to poke his finger firmly into Sam's chest.

"I didn't say ‘safe under the tree', smart-ass. I said ‘under the tree'. And how ridiculous can you possibly get? ‘Saved by Christmas'! You are losing your mind, Sammy."

Sam sat back on his heels to escape the accusatory digit and continued on with his irritating line of questioning.

"So, the tree didn't save us? And Cupid didn't appear to float me outta the river? And a robin red-breast didn't save us from the bear trap? And..?"

"Enough, for heaven's sake!"

Dean yelled and Sam deployed his ultimate argument winning weapon.

"So, you're saying we weren't safe under the tree?

Sam made sure his eyes brimmed just enough with tears at his next line.

"I tried real hard to make it comfortable under that tree, Dean."

Dean had lost and he knew it. The moment Sam's eyes had sparkled with tears had always heralded the downfall of his resolve to press his point and now, even though Sam had carried him the last half mile, it was no different. ‘Big brother Dean' emerged with a vengeance.

"No, Sam, I didn't say it wasn't comfortable. You did a great job with the tree, and the fire and everything."

Sam stepped the lip quivering down to a five on the Richter scale.

"And breakfast..?"

Dean nodded urgently and patted Sam's arm.

"Yeah, Sammy. Breakfast was cool too. You did a great job."

Dean smiled, reassured that he had fended off Sam's sulk and Sam went in for the kill.

"So, no more talk of leaving you here in the snow and going off into the sunset. Okay, Dean? Deal?"

The older brother's face creased into a frown. How the hell had he stampeded into a fast shuffle? Goddamn, Sam was good!

"Now, wait up there, Sasquatch..."

Dean shuffled forward on his bum a little, tugging the front of Sam's jacket for emphasis.

"All I was saying was, I really can't keep up...

Dean gestured to his swollen leg and throbbing toes.

"And I'm holding you back, so if you were to..."

"Stop it, Dean!"

Sam dragged his jacket from his brother's frozen fingers and pushed him none too gently back into the ‘snow pillow' behind him as he rose to his full height to tower over Dean.

Sam's good natured cajoling had disappeared, replaced by a heartfelt anger born of his lingering fear. The impact with the snow found and re-awakened the myriad small wounds on Dean's back and he sucked in the frigid air as the pain flared.

"Why do you always do this?"

Sam asked, his cheeks flushed and he stood, hands on hips, over Dean as he spoke so that the recumbent man was forced to lean back submissively to be able to see his face.

"Sam..."

Dean tried to speak but his brother was in no mood to hear it.

"Shut up for a god-damned minute, Dean! I'm talking and you need to hear this."

Dean thought of a dozen wise-ass remarks. A dozen reasons to save himself from what Sammy was going to say. And then he looked into Sam's frightened face and knew he had to shut up, suck it up and hear his brother out. He owed him that.

"Okay. I'm listening. Shoot, Sammy."

Dean's voice was soft and scared and Sam's anger dissipated with the swirling snow. Scared was something Dean never allowed to colour his words. But there it was, so softly said, but somehow so loud that it quieted the wind storm around them and hummed as the only sound in Sam's ears.

It was like the younger man was a marionette and someone had suddenly scythed his strings. He folded, all long arms and legs, till he sat in the snow beside Dean.

"It's just..."

He started to say but stopped as he looked into his brother's deep green eyes. The same eyes he had seen for all his life but for a moment, in the gleam of the snow, there was Dean's mortal soul on display for him to see.

It took the words from Sam's lips with the intensity of feeling he saw there. Those eyes resonated with loss and grief and terror. They were darkened with the knowledge of too many horrors seen and wearied by responsibility beyond their years. They longed for their Mom; the Mom that Dean could actually remember as a person not just a concept. They yearned for something beyond this, beyond hunting with its death and destruction. Yet they didn't think they deserved it.

The sadness overwhelmed Sam and he shifted to lower his gaze, but Dean caught his chin and forced him to hold the moment, and Sam saw the rest. He saw beneath the loss, and fear and grief and there was love. For their Mom and Dad and the countless people they had helped by hunting the creatures of darkness that were their daily companions. But, most of all, he saw Dean's unconditional love for him. Throughout everything this man had been forced to witness, endure, bear, there was love.

It humbled and amazed Sam and he found himself speechless in the snow as the tears froze on his cheeks.

"Come on, bro. That ridiculous hair of yours'll freeze to your head if we don't get going."

Dean smiled as he spoke and held his cold-numbed hands out to Sam, indicating he needed assistance to get back to his less than fully-functional feet. Sam wiped his nose on his sleeve and got to his own feet, as gently as possible pulling Dean with him. The brothers resumed their conjoined posture and, amidst a flurry of grunts of pain and exertion, they continued down the snow covered path towards the Impala.


wWw


The ghost of the Christmas Hiker found his quarry and released his most malevolent shriek to terrorise the creature to his bidding. The howl resonated through the forest and the beast reared and fled in terror in the direction of the unsuspecting Winchesters, as the tattered phantom smiled its deaths-head grimace into the wind.

wWw


"What the crap was that?"

Dean was suddenly alert, his aching body flooding with ‘fight or flight' adrenaline as the unearthly sound reverberated through the idyllic snow covered scene that surrounded them. He stood away from Sam, throwing down his crutch and groaning as he placed full weight on his damaged leg and toes. The sudden pressure stimulated Dean's circulation and blood seeped from the sodden bandage to stain the leg of his jeans.

"Jeeze, Dean why didn't you tell me you were bleeding through the bandage?"

Sam's eyes flickered to the growing stain on the tattered denim that wrapped Dean's tense thigh.

"There's no time for that now, Sammy. Get the guns out."

The elder Winchester tugged at the shabby pack on his brother's back as he spoke and the look of urgency on Dean's face, and the memory of the inhuman scream resounding in his ears, gave Sam's frozen hands the necessary speed.

"Hurry, Sam. It's coming!"

Sam grabbed one of the sawn-off's and pumped it as he handed it to his brother. He snatched the second and moved to stand, shoulder to shoulder with Dean, as they faced the sound of their approaching assailant.

The thundering noise got louder and louder, and the trees on its approach route shuddered and divested themselves of snow as the beast careened closer and closer to the ill-prepared hunters.

"What do you think it is, Dean?" Sam whispered.

"Oh, well let's see? Could it be a velociraptor, Sam?" Dean glanced incredulously at his brother, tension making his words unnecessarily harsh.

"How the hell do I know?" Sam looked hurt.

"I was only asking..."

"And why are you whispering?" Dean demanded irritably, as before them the crashing and demonic wailing increased.

"Don't want to give away our position..." Sam reasoned in embarrassment, his cheeks red as a Christmas elf's.

"I think it's got our position, Sammy. Brace for impact, here it comes!"

Dean glanced again as the ravening beast broke through the cover of the trees and skidded to a halt before them as they aimed the shotguns at its hideous form.


wWw

The little grey donkey trembled in terror as it observed the bristling hunters before it; and turned tail to try and flee back into the woods from whence it came. However, the ghost of the Christmas Hiker had distinct plans for the sure footed quadruped and he howled a reminder of his intended destination for the quaking beast of burden.

It ee-ored pathetically, its dilemma solved as it decided that the men before it were at least of this earth and it staggered, stiff legged with fear, towards the hunters as they lowered their shotguns.

"Velociraptor, huh?" Sam raised an eyebrow at his grinning brother.

"Okay, so not a velociraptor...maybe a T-Rex, you think?" Dean questioned innocently.

"Ass!" Sam snorted.

"Sam, I thought a college boy like you would be able to tell the difference. Anyone can see it's a donkey."

"I can tell the difference, Dean." Sam deadpanned. "I was referring to you, not it!"

The animal approached the brothers, braying softly in distress and Dean gently petted its long, soft ears as it nuzzled into him.

"I think it likes me, Sammy." He smiled as the little creature butted against him, seeking comfort in his warmth.

"Yeah, well no doubt it's a she, then, Dean. Didn't you just say you were irresistible to females?"

Sam laughed at Dean's hurt look.

"And let's face it, she's a lot prettier than some of the dates you've had."

Dean scratched behind the donkey's ears, making soothing chucking noises deep in his throat.

"She is real purdy..."

He mused, as he ran his strong hands over her withers. The donkey pushed against him relishing the attention after her scare and Dean found his wobbly legs unable to find a stable base. He leaned forward over her back to stop himself falling flat on his face, and before he knew what was happening Sam had legged him up and he found himself astride the beast as she brayed her surprise.

"Oh, no way, Sammy!"

Dean moved to try and dismount the patient donkey but his endeavour was blocked, both by Sam's restraining hand and the tremendous pain in his leg as he flexed his knee. The sensation of warmth and wetness from the fresh blood spread further down his leg.

"What's the problem, Dean?" Sam asked innocently, as his brother wriggled on the donkey's surprisingly warm back.

"Sam, no, this is just too freaky for words."

Sam was busy tying a short length of rope that he had retrieved from the bottom of his pack around the donkey's neck to act as a halter.

"Why? What's freaky?" Sam finished the task and turned to look at his mounted sibling as he continued.

"You need a ride, ‘cause let's face it, what with your ruined knee and broken toes you're not going anywhere in a hurry."

Dean nodded his head in acquiescence on that point but still squirmed in marked discomfort.

"And then this wild Bethlehem donkey wanders conveniently out of the woods..."

To his credit Sam's lip didn't even quiver as he said the line, Dean's eyebrows, however, hovered somewhere at hairline level.

"Wild Bethlehem donkey? Sam...donkey's are not indigenous to ..."

"Indigenous? Big word! Where d'you learn that, Dean?" Sam snarked, a wry little smile curving his mouth as Dean blushed slightly. "Told ya, Sammy. I watch Discovery channel!"

"Humm, yeah!" Sam tutted as he continued.

"Anyway so you need a ride and we get one. Rack it up as another much appreciated Christmas save in my opinion."

Dean still wriggled, his face a picture of distress.

"What now?" Sam demanded and Dean puffed out a breath before he blurted out.

"But Sammy... It was okay before, it was just, like Christmassy icons, nothing, well, religious..."

Sam acted dumb, forcing Dean to say the actual words.

"Weary traveller riding on a donkey, into Bethlehem...it's all getting a bit too bit biblical for my taste." Dean couldn't disguise his distress as he spoke.

"Dean." Sam made sure he betrayed not a hint of a smile.

"So, you think that would maybe make you the Vir...?"

The rest was cut off by Dean's flustered denial.

"No, no, Sam. That's not what I meant at all. I just meant, it's maybe kinda getting beyond a joke now! Before, with the holly, the robin, the Christmas tree, all that stuff was just winter stuff. This is now getting to really be Christmas."

Dean mumbled, his face red as the berries on the holly bushes dotting the snowy scene they sat in.

"Well, maybe that's okay too, Dean. All I know, dude, is that it seems like there's something out there, determined to keep our ghost-busting tails in the game. I don't know who, or what, or even why, but I ain't going to knock it, just ‘cause it's starting to turn a little too biblical for your liking. Anyway, the similarity stops there, ‘cause knowing what I know about your dirty mind, I have to say there is just no way I could see you as a virgin."

Sam's mouth quirked into a smile at his brother's indignation.

"So, shut you pie-hole and settle your butt ‘cause this fine ass is gonna save both of ours!



Ends


Join us tomorrow as our semi-mounted warriors pick up the pace a little...looks like the Winchester's luck may be changing for the better - what could possibly go wrong?

Dean on a donkey... :rotfl . Ok that chapter was priceless. Loved how you described what Sam saw in Dean's soul, I have pictured that and more. Waiting impatiently for the next chapter. ;)

Hiya Aislinn,

It had to be Dean on that donkey, cause we didn't think there'd be one high enough to sit Sam astride! We're delighted that you appreciated the imagery!! lol The next chapter is pretty donkeycentric.

Thinking about it, being as we took the :car Impala away from the boys for this one, we've given Dean a couple of aternative rides - though none quite so cute as our 'Raptor', we grew very fond of her by the end (as did Dean!). :wub:

Thanks as always for your comments - they really are much appreciated.

Hey Jared is fit.
so happy you enjoyed it, it was lovely to write!
Bird xx :clap

:wave we love our little donkey! Heehee thanks for reviewing. Bev (Bird) xx

Our poor Dean on a donkey!! How funny is that...I can just picture him bitchin all the way.
Love the updates and the brotherly moments :wub:

But most of all I love Hurt Dean :P I know I'm a sucker for hurt Dean call me crazy! :skip

lol the virgin dean riding a donkey...how funny
update
soon
xxx

Hiya Denise69

Stay tuned for more Dean on a donkey, and yeah, you're right there's plenty of bitching on the way!

As for the Hurt!Dean, you certainy are not alone in appreciating a bit of that! the only thing sweeter, is fixing him! <_<

Thank you so much for the lovely review, we hope you enjoy the next one...

Well...maybe not quite virginal Dean!! lol

Thanks for the review, hun. Standby for some Sammy jokes - at Dean's expense - hope you enjoy!

The Twelve Saves of Christmas – Chapter 10


Mobile once again, the beleaguered Winchesters start to make better time - but as the weather worsens they realise that once again they need to seek shelter for the night…
We would like to take this opportunity to apologise in advance for the over-abundance of donkey jokes; it’s just that once Sam got started there was no stopping him. Who’d have thought he would make a joke at his brother’s expense!!




Save 9 - A Stable Somewhere Outside Bethlehem by Janger


December 23rd 3.30pm


Despite the feeling of being impaled upon the bony ridge he now found himself perched perilously atop, (and the general feeling of embarrassment at finding himself - courtesy of Sam - riding a little, grey donkey, albeit with very pretty eyes,) Dean had to admit, if only to himself, that at least they were now able to make better headway. Or, more accurately, any headway at all, as his knee/toe combination had effectively finished him off as a bipedal entity for the time being.

The pleasant warmth that emanated up from the erratically rocking platform was also very welcome.

He sat, self-consciously, astride the now happily plodding beast, who appeared to be totally at ease with the 6ft 1in, well-muscled hunter straddling her narrow back. He gripped tightly, even though the blisters on his hands from clinging to his rough-hewn crutch were raw, to a double handful of the spiky, black mane. Gradually he found his body relaxing as he adapted to the jerky, bouncing motion.

Clenching the muscles in his now throbbing nether regions, he again shifted his weight, trying to minimize the damage from the knobbly backbone. His long legs, dangling on either side, just skimmed the surface of the white-blanketed forest floor. But compared to the agony of staggering alongside his gargantuan, shaggy haired sibling, this was a ‘walk in the park'. Or more precisely, he thought shaking his weary head, ‘a donkey ride in the forest.'

‘Ah, hell! Now I'm doing it. As if it's not enough with Sasquatch and his suck-ass jokes!'

Raptor, as he had unofficially named her, had calmed quickly under his strong, measured strokes, her trembling flanks gradually stilling under his tender caress, relaxing as he'd crooned comfortingly in her long, fluffy ear. An effect that had not gone unnoticed by his long-striding brother as he kept pace beside them.

"Sam?" He growled quietly, breaking the monotony of the muffled crunch of hooves on crisp, virgin snow, "I swear, if you ever mention this again after today I'll go buy a clown suit, wig and all and make you wear the damn thing in public, so you can see what stupid feels like!"

He aimed emerald daggers in his brother's direction, as once again he caught sight of the smirk Sam now, almost continuously, wore.

"Hey, bro. Don't worry, your secret's safe with me. Not a word shall pass these lips. It's just, we couldn't afford to look a gift horse, or - in this case a gift donkey - in the mouth." He sniggered gleefully.

Dean gave an entirely ‘I'm seriously not amused with this crap anymore' huff and tried again.

"Do you think at some stage this evening, we might reach a point where you run out of your tired one-liners? It's getting real old, real fast, dude."

"You're right. I'm sorry. I'm being an ass!"

Sam attempted to look contrite, briefly, before losing the battle, as a huge grin burst across his travel-worn features.

Reaching up, Dean swiped the snow from a low-hanging branch and aimed it with deadly accuracy at his wisecracking brother's head. Even as he congratulated himself on the direct hit, he noticed, with concern, the increasing limp as Sam tramped onwards through the ankle deep snow.

"Well, you never know, Sam. Maybe Raptor's got an ugly, big sister tucked away somewhere for you! I could put in a good word. See if I can get you fixed up, huh, college boy?"

"No, Dean. It's okay, but if I feel the need to ‘burro' your girlfriend, I'll let you know!"

"Enough, already! Please, Sammy. Let's just give it a rest, okay?"

"Well, there's no need to be mulish about it, Dean. You don't have to act like a complete Jackass."

"Dude. Stop!" He pleaded, "Seriously though, Sammy, when she ran into us, she was totally freaked, man. I been wondering, what the hell terrified her, maybe there's mountain lion or bear around. Something sure as hell set her off."

Sam simply raised his eyebrows in agreement and peered into the thickening gloom as he double-checked the safety catch on his handgun. But still be couldn't resist one parting shot.

"Don't worry, Tex, whatever happens, I'm ready to kick some ass!"

They travelled onwards into the fast falling darkness, senses alert for any predators, but the only signs of movement were the increasingly heavy flurries that whirled around their heads, falling more heavily as the thick tree cover receded.


wWw


The Christmas Hiker watched from the cover of the trees, a cadaverous grin on his face at the brother's exchanges. The little beast was proving a boon and he was relieved to see that they were now, once again, making progress towards his desired destination for them. They would soon be in a position to fulfil his plans and he prayed he would finally have his way. He smiled his deaths head smile and drifted ethereally behind them on the wind.

wWw


"How ya doin', Sam? You wanna stop, have a rest, maybe something to eat?"

"Nah, let's just keep going, at least its warmer when we're moving. Besides, it looks like there's another snowstorm on the way." Sam cast a wary eye back at the glowering sky. "We're making good time now, it's probably only 3 or 4 miles back to the car. Only problem is, bro, I don't think your new friend'll fit in the back seat. It may be the end of a beautiful relationship!"

"Bite me, Sammy!"

Dean retorted good-naturedly, and Sam let loose a ‘Muttley-esque' chuckle as he hunched down ever deeper into his inadequate jacket, hands digging deep into pockets, searching for warmth. He shivered as the biting wind grew to new proportions, howling around the three slow moving figures as they struggled through the burgeoning snowstorm.


wWw


The little grey burro had slowed to a walk, picking her way carefully through the hock-deep snow that blanketed the valley floor. Despite the lack of visibility, her sense of direction leading them steadily forwards.

Dean sat hunched into the wind, gradually leaning further over the gently swaying neck as the cold and exhaustion took their toll on his already abused frame. Lulled into a fitful sleep by the slow, rocking motion he sagged forwards, the right hand side of his face snuggling into Raptor's thick winter coat as sleep finally claimed him.

Struggling now to keep pace, Sam kept watch on the suddenly silent form at his side. He lunged across just in time to catch the back of Dean's jacket as he saw the sideways slide.

"Dean! Whoa, wake up, man!"

The sudden yank on his collar, and the accompanying burst of agony that rocketed through him as his sibling's quick action pinned his knee to the donkey's side, brought a strangled yelp of surprise and pain.

"Aaahhh! Goddammit!"

He tailed off, face screwed up in anguish.

Sam struggled to keep his brother straddling the skittering donkey as she sidestepped nervously, anxious at the unfamiliar noise and action.

"Whoa! Whoa! Steady there, girl."

Sam soothed, supporting Dean with his right hand and patting the trembling withers with his left.

Dean looked about blearily, clutching at his knee as his now rested nerve endings awoke with a violent intensity. With Sam's help he hitched himself back aboard, regained his balance and clutched tightly to the stubby mane before him.

"Sorry, bro. You were about to take a nose-dive into the white stuff."

Sam raised his voice over the scream of the wind, talking close to his brother's ear.

"S'kay, Sammy. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep. Where are we now?"

"Well, it's difficult to tell, but I think once we reach the other side of this valley, we should find the last path down through the trees to the car. It should only be a couple of miles from here."

Dean held up a hand, attempting to shield his eyes from the buffeting wind.

"Dude, I can't see jackshit! You sure we're goin' the right way?"

"S'far as I can tell, we're good."

Sam tried to impart more confidence than he felt in the middle of the open meadow, their view obscured by swirling snow and his eyes closing in fatigue. He knew he had drifted off several times as they had trudged through the evening and on into the night, the bitter cold forcing his mind to take shelter from its harsh brutality. He knew they should have reached the shelter of the woods by now, but with visibility down to a few feet; his sense of direction had become confused.

With alarm he realised that at some point, he had taken to following the little grey beast that walked so confidently beside him, rather than taking the lead himself. Guiltily, he stared into the swirling storm that surrounded them, admitting to himself that his lack of attention would probably mean another night out in the wilderness. They could be less than half a mile from the safety of the car, but in this, there was just no way of knowing.

"Sam?"

It was the low growl that Dean only used when he absolutely demanded the truth. The one Sam, even now, found near impossible to resist.

"Ah, look, Dean. As far as I know we're still going the right way. But, dude, truthfully, I just don't know for sure. I'm sorry!"

"Look, Sammy. Let's just get into the shelter of the trees; you've been walking for hours, man. I'm sorry, we should've stopped sooner. We'll worry about where we are then. Come on!"

He shouted into the storm, his words snatched away by the stinging gusts.

Again the little donkey took the lead, it had waited milling nervously, and unnerved by the presence of the spirit it felt lurking just beyond its range of vision. She felt the rider urging her onwards, so she turned, and headed homewards.

As the path that lead to the safety of the Impala disappeared behind them, lost to the raging blizzard that assaulted them from all directions, the three silent figures trudged onwards, ever deeper into the adjoining valley. The little donkey picked its way, uncomplaining, on hooves steady even in the thick snow. Sam stumbled alongside, one hand locked on the collar of Dean's stiff leather jacket, eyelids nodding shut as the snow flurries whipped his stinging face. Now he moved as if in a trance.

wWw

The Christmas hiker watched the slow, painful progression of the ragtag parade with concern. They were turning from the path he so desperately needed them to take. The donkey was leading them towards its own choice of destination and the hunters were too out of it to redirect it.

The ghost weighed up the options. He could swoop in and chastise the labouring donkey back onto the path towards the Impala or he could let the weary trio continue to their current destination and take the rest they so desperately needed.

He was loathe to allow them to deviate from the task he had assigned them but he could see exhaustion written all over their injured bodies, and the arid remains of his once beating heart went out to them.

He hung back, letting the little beast lead them where it would, his ethereal form blending with the shadows as his sigh of frustration whispered on the wind.


wWw


It was the sudden cessation of the biting wind that had been his constant unwelcome companion, which roused him from the stumbling stupor he had fallen into. His head jolted upwards, long tendrils of frost encrusted hair whipping round to sting his startled face.

Instinctively his right hand clutched at his brother's jacket collar, the sudden movement rousing the sleeping figure.

"Hunh! Whassamattasammy?" Dean lurched upright, blinking wildly to clear his eyes of the dusting of snow that laced his dark lashes. Over-balancing, he frantically pin wheeled his arms, trying to keep his seat astride the donkey. The startled beast shied away and the erratic combination pitched Dean, head over heels off the shaggy, thin back to land shoulder first into a mound of freshly deposited snow. Twisting onto his side he clenched himself into a ball, desperately trying to avoid the panicked hooves of the distressed jenny.

The little donkey, terrified, bolted down the narrow path, hee-hawing for all she was worth.

Sam skidded to his knees, by his winded brother's side, adrenaline pumping through him. Reaching out he placed a hand on the heaving shoulder.

"Oh, god! Dean?"

"Aaaahhh! Sonofabitch!"

"Dean? Speak to me, are you alright?"

"Unhh! Goddamit! Just freakin' peachy, Sammy!" Dean managed to grit from between his trembling lips.

"Come on, let's get you up outta that snow. Can you sit up, dude?"

Sam reached out and helped ease his brother from the frozen drift, brushing the powdery snow from his hair and shoulders with one hand as he supported his leather-clad back with the other.

Dean spat out a mouthful of the freezing snow, shaking his head to remove the clumps that clung tenaciously to the side of his face. Blinking to clear his eyes, he assessed their new position.

"So, Dorothy. I guess we're not in Kansas anymore? Any of this looking familiar to you, Sam?"

"Umm, now you mention it. No, not really. I don't remember passing that fencing on the way up, do you?"

Sam pointed to where a stout, three bar fence ran alongside the path and on into the distance.

"Nope, but it might mean we're getting near some sorta civilisation, Sam. Well, at least we're outta the wind. Come on, gimme a hand up here, bro. Hell, I'd just about dried my long-suffering ass off, on the long-suffering ass. Haahaa, see stand up..."

He glanced, disorientated, at his position on the damp ground.

"Umm, maybe that's ‘sit-down' comedy, Sammy. Yeah, sit down comedy runs in the Winchester family. Now, once again I'm freezing my buns off sitting in the goddam ‘not supposed to be falling till Christmas Day' snow. Again!"

He tried to raise his arm towards the younger Winchester but the twisting motion had him grabbing instead at his lower back, face scrunched in agony as the abused muscles spasmed. His back arched suddenly, forcing him heavily backwards, into Sam's chest.

"Steady, steady there, Dean. I gotcha, bro. What's the matter? What's wrong?"

Sam held him tightly, feeling the tremors that rippled through the juddering figure beside him.

"Nothin', Sam. I'm okay." He laboured, "Just a twinge. Cramp, maybe." He panted around the groans that forced their way from between his parted lips. "Ahh, crap. Just gimme a minute here, okay?"

Struggling to control his breathing, he dug the heel of his palm deep into the protesting muscles, sighing as he felt them gradually relax. He slumped forward and then dropped his head into shaking hands, running grubby, grazed fingers through his damp hair, leaving deep channels that marked their path.

Sam felt his brother wilt beside him as the contraction passed; worriedly he looked around, his eyes following along the route taken by the panic-ridden donkey. He tipped his head to the side, listening to the sound of muted braying as it filtered its way to him along the track.

"Dude! Ssshhh! You hear that?" Sam asked quietly. "Listen, man!"

"What am I supposed to be listening to?"

"Donkey!"

"Jackass!" Dean countered, hotly.

"No, Dean. I mean listen to it. I can hear the donkey; in fact, I think I can hear two donkeys!" Sam whispered excitedly.

"Ah, your date arriving at last, dude? And…why exactly are we whispering?"

"Quit fooling around, Dean. We need your noble steed! In case you hadn't noticed, you're not exactly Mr Fully Mobile at the moment. And, I seriously don't think I'm up to hauling your sorry, soaking wet butt around all night while we look for the goddam car! Maybe your ride was taking us back to her place for the night. Maybe that's why we ended up on a different path."

"Dude, I know you've had a bad couple of days. Maybe, it's the wrong time of the month. I don't know? But you don't have to cuss about my baby, she's not done anything wrong here!" Dean defended his car vigorously.

Sam shook his head in exasperation, his voice slowly rising as he confronted his obtuse brother.

"Dean, are you deliberately trying to miss the point here? We're lost! I can't see further than six foot in front of me, it's freezing, you can't walk, we got next to nothing to eat, no shelter, there's a freakin ghost on our tail and we just lost the only form of transport we had. Yes, I'm having a bad couple of days! I don't care about the freakin’ car, apart from wanting to get us back inside it and away from this godforsaken mountain."

Dean bit back the snarky reply, catching the look of increasing panic that had taken up residence on his baby brother's pale, lined face. Big brother mode kicked in, full force.

"Hey, I'm sorry, Sam! I didn't mean to upset you, I was just trying to lighten the mood a little. Come on, just calm down, man. We'll be okay." He soothed. "We can't be far from the car now; we must be down in the valley at least, and I can walk just fine. I just need a hand up, and that walking stick back. Seriously, dude. I've had a great rest on the donkey, I'll be able to walk, no problem! Come on, help me up, here!"

Sam turned, his huge soulful eyes locked with his brother's glassy stare, desperate to believe the lie he had just heard, searching for reassurance. Dean's haggard features melted into a crooked grin and he cuffed his sad eyed kin gently round the back of the head. The sound of agitated braying drifted to them on the wind.

"Listen, they can't be far. Come on, gimme a hand to stand. Let's go see if we can catch up with Raptor, see if she's found you a friend. Don't want you missing out on the chance of a hot date!"

Sam shuffled to get one foot under him, wrapping Dean's arm round his shoulder and gripping his belt tightly with his free hand. He felt his brother taking deep breaths, steeling himself for the pain to come.

"Ready, bro?" Sam asked quietly, he noted the nod of confirmation and, bracing himself, he rose steadily to his feet, grimacing as he brought almost the full weight of his brother up with him.

Dean's bravado only carried him so far, before Sam felt desperate fingers digging through his jacket and the muffled sound of hitching sobs that rocked through his brother's frame. He stood, silently, giving the swaying form at this side a chance to regain his composure.

Dean brought his hand up, roughly swiping at the tears that brimmed from his dark ringed eyes. Shakily, he pinched the bridge of his nose, huffing out short puffs that ghosted into the night as he fought to control his breathing.

"Think you can stand on your own while I get your stick?" Sam asked dubiously.

Dean nodded an affirmative, whilst his fiercely clutching hand at Sam's shoulder told a totally different story.

"How's your foot feel?"

"Foot's just dandy, can't feel the freaky little mother, at all!" He panted, shakily.

"Knee?"

"Hurts like a sonofabitch, Sam. Its kinda stiffened up where I’ve been sitting still for a while. I'll be fine once I get going!"

He glanced briefly into Sam's disbelieving face, and then lowered his pain-filled eyes.

"Listen, dude, why don't you just prop me up over there by the fence," he indicated a small group of rocks, "while you scout up ahead and check out the donkey situation. See if my ride's still around, huh? You're right, it does sound like a pair of them and they're not far up ahead – remember, mine’s the good looking one.” He gave Sam a lopsided grin. “Look, leave me one of the shotguns. Just let me give my foot a chance to get the circulation going again."

Sam worried at his lower lip, as he glanced up the path and then back to the jumble of rocks across the track. "Come on then, let's get you settled over there. I'm only gonna go as far as the next bend, if I can't see anything I'm coming back to get you, okay? You ready?"

"'M fine, Sammy! Let's go!"

Sam hitched his brother's arm further over his broad shoulder, and, ignoring the grunts and groans, hauled the suffering figure towards the pile of sloping rocks. The dozen or so paces through the ankle deep snow left them both gasping for breath. Sam gratefully lowered Dean to the stone platform, settling his leg before him. He routed in the backpack and produced Dean's sawn-off, checking the rounds before handing it over to the trembling figure, sitting hunched on the cold stone.

"Dean? Dean, listen to me. I'll be two minutes. Watch my back, dude, okay?"

Sam waited till the weary head nodded in understanding. Smiling as he caught the quiet reply.

"I'll wait for you, dude. I ain't goin' nowhere, unless Santa himself swings by on his sleigh and offers me a ride!"

Dean watched as Sam checked his handgun before moving out, steadily, along the track, in the direction of the distant braying.


wWw


The Ghost watched with concern as the younger, less injured of the brothers’ moved away up the track. He could sense the vital connection these men had to each other and knew instinctively that they functioned best as a unit. He gathered the shabby tendrils that were his tattered form around him and rode the wind to flow towards the abandoned Winchester.

wWw

As Sam moved out of his eyeline, the elder hunter crumpled, curling up protectively around his throbbing knee, blinking to keep the black spots that danced before his eyes at bay.

‘Damn! I hope to hell he can catch that donkey, ‘cause this time we are so far up the freakin' creek, I don't even think the paddle would help!'

His left hand snaked round to rub at the deep ache that had lodged at the small of his back, the constant cold doing little to help the sharp twinges that made themselves known every time his awkward gait forced him to lurch too far to the side.

‘Why couldn't I have just completed the goddamn booking confirmation when I should'a done? We'd have been tucked up safe and warm in the Holy Night Inn's best suite, complete with Jacuzz,i having a great time. Would have been a Christmas that Sam could have remembered for all the right reasons for once. Crap, I am such a freakin' screw-up!'
Dean shivered, despite the lack of wind in the shelter of the trees the bitter cold seeped deep into his bones. He shrugged down into his jacket, turning up the collar as he hefted the shotgun with his right hand. As he peered into the shadows his hunter's instinct suddenly came to the fore, raising his hackles, as a shiver, that had no connection with the weather, ran down his spine.

wWw

The Ghost of the Christmas Hiker knew that this pain-wracked man before him in the snow could sense his presence even before he left the shadows and allowed himself to be seen. He was unsurprised that he saw no real fear on the hunter's pale face, as he had the impression that this man had seen more in his relatively short lifetime than most people could ever contemplate. The dead ruin that had once been a handsome face contemplated the struggling figure before him, willing Dean to understand, to know what he must do.

wWw

Uncertainly, Dean lowered the shotgun, knowing without doubt that the ghostly form wavering between the trees had no ill intention towards him. He felt the sadness, loneliness and need that rolled in waves from the depths of the disembodied eyes.

"Dean!"

Sam's muffled voice, filtered through the trees. Dean watched as the ethereal form faded into the trees, his face turning to search out his brother in the darkness.

"Sam, you okay?" Dean shouted, shifting forwards, growling as he lowered his leg, painfully, to the ground. "Sammy, answer me!"

Injury all but forgotten, he swayed back, quickly gripping the boulder as his knee buckled beneath him. He raised the shotgun as heavy footsteps crashed along the path.

"Sammy?"

"Dean? Where are you?"

"Sammy, I'm here. You okay?"

"Yeah! Hell yeah!" Sam's laughter surprised the startled hunter. "Dean, look what I found!"

A rejuvenated Sam burst into view, Dean observed the noisy apparition lumbering down the path, dragging something behind him.

"Over here, Sam! What on earth’re you so happy about?"

"Dude, this is awesome. You are so not gonna believe it!"

"Try me, Sammy! No, let me guess. You've found Santa's workshop and there's a pack of elves up there weaving a magic carpet to take us home!"

Dean snarked, hiding his grin at Sam's sudden enthusiasm.

"Ah...no!" Dean thought he detected a slight note of disappointment in his brother's tone.

"But look!" Sam approached, pulling out his Maglite as he turned to the object trailing behind him in the snow.

"Well, it sure ain't my donkey, dude!"

Sam's flashlight illuminated a small halo on the crisp white snow, gleaming yellow in the sudden torchlight. He moved it to play teasingly over the black and red sled that he pulled by two long leather straps.

"Climb aboard, dude! Your chariot awaits!" Sam chuckled.

"Okay, so what's this supposed to be, Santa's sleigh?"

"No, not quite! I'm keeping the best till last. Let me help you down there!"

Sam pulled the sled across, positioning it directly in front of Dean, all the time laughing quietly to himself.

Dean regarded him suspiciously.

"Dude, you find something to smoke on the way back from wherever you been? You're starting to worry me, here!"

Sam settled his incredulous brother onto the low back of the sled, gently straightening the wounded left leg as Dean hissed in pain through his clenched teeth. Beads of sweat forming on his forehead despite the cold.

"Hold on tight, here we go!" Sam laughed merrily.

"Okay, Bing! When you gonna start singing Winter friggin' Wonderland?"

Sam heaved on the straps, the sled jolted once, and then swished forward, running smoothly over the crisp layer of white.

"It's not far. Dude, this is just so totally awesome! Here we are, stuck out in the wilderness, we’ve just lost our donkey and we’re cold, tired, hungry and in need of shelter when lo and behold."

"Lo and behold? What the…? You can cut the lo and behold, crap, dude! Unless, you've just morphed into the Angel Freakin' Gabriel!"

"When lo and behold..." Sam repeated, pausing as he hauled the sled in a wide circle, allowing Dean an uninterrupted view of the small, thatched, log building illuminated by a shaft of moonlight which broke through the roiling clouds above. The stable, ‘cause that's undoubtedly what it looked like, nestled inside a small glade, the trees seemingly held back by the wooden railing that enclosed it on three sides, the fourth opening out onto what looked to be a small meadow.

The little grey donkey's head poked out of the half door and hee-hawed a bray of welcome as she recognised her erstwhile companions.

"Oh no, Sammy! Please! You gotta be kiddin' me! Tell me it's just a barn."

"Oh no, Dean. This is the real McCoy. A one hundred percent, bona fide stable in freakin' Bethlehem - stalls and manger and all! We've just been saved from exposure in the snow, by a stable, dude! A ‘star of freakin' wonders’ stable!"

"Aw, hell! Just shoot me now, this is getting' beyond a joke, Sammy!"


Ends

Join us tomorrow for a continuation of the ‘Stable Save’ – as we treat the boys to a little much needed Rest and Recuperation, Bethlehem style!! Anyone care to guess what the boys’re going to find inside that stable?

I knew Sam had it in him to poke that much fun at Dean, even injured. Oh my gosh I loved it, had me chuckling. A donkey than a stable. :lol: What is up with the ghost? You have my curiosity peeked. This is an awesome Christmas gift that you have bestowed upon us readers...THANK YOU both.

A baby donkey munching hay from a manger?

:clap :clap :clap :clap :clap love this story!!!! Excellent work!!!

what more can I say!!! :bow
Can't wait for the update :cheer

Hiya Aislinn,

We're pleased you enjoyed Sammy's little jokes at Dean's expense, once they get going - there's just no stopping them! lol

As for the ghost - we promise - all will be revealed, not too long to wait now! We're pleased he's got you thinking...the ghost is written the whole way through by birdie (Bev) and as the story developed he took on a much more important role than we had originally envisioned. We hope you're pleased with the results (Chapter 13 should bring the big reveal!).

Thanks so much for your lovely comments - they mean such a lot to us! Hope you enjoy tonights update - I get a chance to patch the boys up a little before they move on.

Thanks again x

Hiya Kyle,

I don't know why we didn't think of a baby donkey - how cute would that have been!!
However, it wasn't quite Christmas cliche`d enough for our purposes - we hope you like what they do find!! lol
Hopefully, it will all make sense in the end!
Jane x

Hiya Denise69,

We just wanted to say thank you to you for your lovely, encouraging comments! They really are a delight to read.
We hope you enjoy tonight's installment, which will follow shortly. It's about time we gave those boys a bit of a break!

Thanks again, hun.
Jane x

The Twelve Saves of Christmas - Chapter 11

No ‘Save’ in this chapter – it’s a continuation of the ‘Stable Save’…as our two hunters take refuge for the night, it's an opportunity for them to lick their many wounds and gain a little strength for the rest of the journey ahead. We do need them to make it back to the Impala and it's time to give them a little R&R.



A Little Rest and Recuperation by Janger


December 23rd 10.02pm


Sam's elated chuckle trickled through the tumbling snowflakes that slowly descended, gently twisting and twirling in the relative calm of the sheltered clearing. He gleefully circled again, this time manoeuvring the sled so he could steer them through the narrow gate in the fence. He reached his long arm over the top, releasing the catch and bumping it open. Dean fended off the spring-loaded panel as Sam hauled him through.

Overhead, the moon disappeared behind the fast-moving clouds and the pair were once again, plunged into darkness.

"Dean, here, hold this!"

Sam routed in his pocket, turning on the flashlight as he passed it down to his still seated brother.

"Point it up here, whilst I undo the bolt, can you?"

Dean swore softly under his breath, tiredness dragging at him, his back twinging in complaint as he held the light aloft.

The bolt slid easily and the stable door eased open on its well-oiled hinges. The little donkey stamped a welcome as Sam stamped in, dragging the sled over the hard-packed earth behind him.

wWw

The Christmas Hiker smiled as he found himself relieved that the brothers had reached the temporary shelter of the stable. It would inevitably mean a delay to them fulfilling his plans but he could see their exhaustion and understood they needed to rest and recuperate if they were to be of real use to him. He let the wind take him, blowing his tattered remains towards the welcoming stable, determined to watch over them.

wWw


"Gimme the light, dude. I'll get the door bolted and then I'll get you settled."

Warm breath and a soft snuffling at his right ear brought Dean's head around with a start.

"Hey, girl. I thought you'd run off and left me. Missed me, Huh?"

He reached up and scratched behind the long, tufted ear. Closing his eyes, he leant his aching head against the familiar warmth. He listened to the scrape of the metal bolt as Sam secured the lower half of the door, relaxing as he breathed in the dusty odour of long stored hay.

A gentle creak and a groan as the top half swung shut, muffling the sounds of the night as they were carried away, moaning and mournful on the wind. Dean wilted, relaxing as his perception adjusted to its new confined dimensions, the solid log walls forming a safe enclosure, a barrier from the harsh elements.

"Dean, look it's perfect. It's got everything, hay and a manger, your donkey. There's piles of stuff up the back here, might even be something to eat."

Sam played the bright beam over the cluttered interior, dust motes dancing crazily as the shaft of light cut through the darkness, long shadows leapt from the beams, and high rafters. Head height, wooden planking separated the stalls running along both sidewalls and low shuffles, grunts and rustles filtered through the still air.

Wearily, Dean raised his head; blinking owlishly in the unaccustomed glare from the torch beam as a huge yawn escaped him. He made no attempt to rise from the wooden base.

"Well, Sammy, it's not quite the luxury suite with Jacuzzi but, dude, I tell you, we've had a lot worse."

He hunched his shoulders, wincing as his multiple bruises protested the movement. With his free hand he hugged his jacket closer around himself and shivered.

The immediate distraction of survival, the concentration he had needed to simply keep placing one foot in front of the other or stay astride the plodding donkey, or more recently the low-slung sled had now gone. One by one his injuries awoke, each making itself known and demanding some long overdue attention.

Clenching his teeth he forced himself to take slow, measured breaths, holding tighter to the nuzzling donkey. He pressed his forehead into the strong neck struggling to overcome the rising panic and dizziness that threatened to overwhelm him.

‘Okay, try to hold it together, just a little bit longer.' He thought, desperately.

wWw

From the shadows the ghost watched on, wishing he could ease the situation of the man before him. He remembered physical pain, though his ethereal body now felt nothing, nothing but the endless anguish of his loss. He hovered slowly, closer, murmuring soft sounds of comfort, letting the animals familiarise themselves with him as he quietly observed.

wWw

Sam advanced into the wide walkway between the stalls, flashlight beam investigating the heavily shadowed cubicles, his running commentary giving Dean a quick inventory of their fellow occupants.

"Man, look! It's not just a warm, dry stable; we've got half the Nativity scene, too! There's a couple of goats in this first pen, another donkey in the next one, looks like an... Oh my god! Dean, there's a pair of freakin' reindeer back here!"

Sam's voice tailed off in amazement.

"Uh, huh." Dean acknowledged automatically, disorientated, as he sucked in deep breaths.

"Sweet holy night! You have just gotta be kiddin' me?" A delighted chuckle filled the dusty stable. "Dean, there's a... Oh my God, you're really not gonna believe this. I swear, there's a…there’s a huge camel over this side! You wanna come see. Let me help you over here."

"Just gimme a minute, okay, dude?"

Dean struggled, forcing his reply.

"After the last couple of days, I don't see why the hell I wouldn't believe a real, live camel, in a damned stable on the outskirts of freakin' Bethlehem. Tell me, Sammy, you got the Angel Gabriel, the three wise men and a truckload of shepherds tucked away back there, too?"

Spent, he sagged forward, forehead pressing into the comforting presence at his side.

Sam's good-natured snicker filled the air.

"Who knows? There're piles of stuff back here. So maybe!"

"Sounds... amazing, Sam."

Dean's voice wavered as, flinching, he attempted to straighten his knee."

He bit down heavily on his dried and cracked lips, stifling the groans that would otherwise have escaped him.

"You alright, bro?"

"'M fine, Sammy. What else you got back there?" He deflected.

Gripping ever tighter to the stubby mane, Dean slowly arched his back, stretching as he tried to alleviate the dull pain that now seemed permanently lodged there. Grimacing, he hitched in a sharp breath at the deep-seated ache that accompanied the movement.

Sam continued his excited explorations.

"Hey, Dean! There're some storm lanterns. Hold on. Should have this alight in a minute, bro, then I'll see if there's anything here we can eat. Maybe get a fire going, get us warmed up and dried out, huh?"

"Yeah, that'd be great."

Dean spoke disinterestedly, as he felt the room begin to tilt.

"Where is the damn thing?" Sam muttered patting down his pockets.

"Crap!" Dean's voice ghosted across the shelter. "Sammy?"

Dean's soft voice failed to penetrate the rustling noises as Sam searched for his lighter, the muffled cursing as the flashlight clattered noisily to the floor.

"Sammy, I don't feel so g..." Dean's whisper was lost in the donkey's thick coat, he felt himself slipping sideways, losing the battle with the slowly spinning room and the rising tide of darkness.

wWw

The Hiker ghost gentled the swooning hunter to the floor, desperate for him not to be further hurt, regretting his hasty actions of the previous days and the injury they had caused. He calmed the little donkey helping her to steady his fall and then drifted away quickly, back to the invisibility of the shadows, allowing the brother access to the fallen man.

wWw

The warm, comforting glow of the oil lamp flooded the rustic interior, chasing long shadows, stretching to the corners. Sam turned, triumphantly, holding the lantern aloft just in time to see the unconscious form of his big brother slump sideways from the low sled, slithering down the donkey's foreleg as she backed nervously away.

"Dean!"

Sam's face fell as he rushed to the older man's aid, side stepping the snorting donkey as he skidded to his knees.

"Aw, hell, Dean! Why didn't you say something?"

He placed the lantern on the hard-packed floor and reached out, carefully rolling the comatose body and pulling him up onto his lap.

"Dean? Come on, man. Speak to me."

Gently, he patted the worn, bruised face that lay resting against his jean-clad thigh. Two days growth of dark stubble covered the slack jaw, accentuating the too pale skin beneath. A long velvety nose brushed against Sam's ear, stretching over and down to nudge at the unconscious hunter.

"Aww, come on, Dean. Wake up!"

Sam glanced frantically round the small barn, looking for someplace safe to lay his brother. The donkey nibbled at the collar of Dean's jacket. Sam, frowning distractedly, pushed back against her with his head, trying to butt the concerned donkey out of the way, however, Raptor just affectionately, pushed right back.

The soft, flickering light cast a cheery glow over the surrounding area, giant shadows looming upwards from the floor where it rested. To the right of the stable door sat a small stack of hay bales, one lay prised apart, trails of the pale, golden stems marking a path to each stall.

"Okay, Dean. I'm just gonna put you down for a minute. Don't go ‘way, I'll be right back."

Sam shrugged from his jacket, shaking his arms free, he balled it up and placed it on the floor. Shuffling backwards, he cradled the unmoving form in his arms and eased him to the floor, placing the lolling head with care upon the makeshift pillow.

"Hang in there, bro. I'll be right back."

Sam ducked out from under the donkey's embrace, leaning lightly on her withers as he rose, wincing from the floor. She regarded him steadily with her soft, chocolate brown eyes.

"Hey, don't worry ‘bout your boyfriend here, he'll be fine. Just let me get him up off the floor."

As he crossed to the haystack, he cast a quick glance floorwards, checking that Dean wasn't awake and listening to his private conversation with the donkey. With dismay he noticed the slowly spreading blood stain that darkened the frayed denim covering the lower left thigh.

"Crap! Crap! Crap!"

Chewing his lower lip in concentration, Sam quickly pushed the split bale to the side and rearranged the stack into a low platform between the front wall and the side stalls. Hastily, he crossed the floor to his brother and knelt down beside him.

"Dean, you gonna wake up and make this easier for me, man?"

He queried, quietly. But Dean lay silent, unmoving, apart from the slight rise and fall of his chest as his soft breathe rasped quietly from his barely parted lips.

Sam heaved a deep sigh, running his cold stiffened fingers through his shaggy mane. He stood, strong hands massaging the base of his neck, as he tried to relieve some of the tension that had lodged there.

"Nah, didn't think so."

He hunkered forward and slipped his left arm under Dean's neck and down, gripping tightly to the leather jacket under his brothers left arm. Easing him up into a sitting position, he slipped his right arm beneath the slightly bowed legs. Gathering his brother in his arms, he struggled to rise as smoothly as possible to prevent any further damage to his long suffering sibling. He hitched him higher, attempting to balance the weight, and Dean's head rolled towards him, settling in the crook of Sam's neck.

"Jeez, Dean. You need to lay off the burgers, dude."

Sam huffed as he carried the muscular form the short distance over to the bed of bales.

Gently, he lay the older man down upon the hay, reaching down to brush bits of straw and dirt from the side of his face. Sam straightened, leaning backwards and rolling his broad shoulders; anxiously he searched for any sign of a return to consciousness.

"Hey, Dean. Can you hear me? Come on, man. Wake up for me. Please."

With a trembling hand he brushed the hair back from his brother's battered brow, resting it there, relieved that, as yet, there was no sign of a fever. Beneath his hand, the blood smeared brow wrinkled into a frown and lines of pain creased the pallid face. A low groan escaped from between his parted lips and the eyelids began to flicker as his head leant into the cold hand.

"That's it. Come on, Dean. Can you hear me?"

Dean felt the cool hand upon his brow, heard the familiar voice calling in the distance, calling his name, pulling him back from the warm, dark place where he had taken refuge. It was a voice he could never resist, and he struggled back through the foggy layers, reaching out for his brother.

Cold, pain, disorientation, nausea, all came crashing back as he fought his way back to consciousness, all pushed aside as he answered the plea he heard in his baby brother's panicked tones.

"Unnhh... Sam." He croaked, his words barely more than a whisper.

"Hey, Dean. Easy, you’re okay…How you feeling, bro?"

His eyelashes fluttered open, parting to reveal glassy, emerald green that skittered in unfocused panic, searching wildly for Sam.

"Sammy. Wh...where, aahh... what..?"

He felt Sam's strong hand upon his face, cupping his chin and turning it gently towards him. Dean's voice tailed away as his brother's concerned face filled his vision, leaning over him, soothing his panic instantly.

"Hey, Dean. Calm down, its okay. I'm here, I gotcha."

Sam intoned steadily, breathing a sigh of relief as he sensed the figure before him relaxing.

Another, louder groan filled the air, breath hitching in his chest as Dean weakly moved his legs.

"C...cold, Sammy!"

"Hey, I know. I'm on it, bro. Stay with me here, okay? I'll go get something to cover you, try and stay awake, huh?"

"Uh, huh...trying...to...tired."

Dean gave a small nod of understanding as Sam backed away to retrieve his jacket from the floor. He cast his eyes around the small stable and in the darkness along the left-hand sidewall he noticed deeper shadows hugging the walls, hanging as if suspended. He crossed the small space and his face broke into a relieved grin as he reached down two heavy sheepskin coats.

"Hey, you still with me, bro?" He called over his shoulder, grinning at the sight of the little donkey that had resumed its position, snuffling at his brother's neck. "This should do the trick. Looks like our luck's just taken a turn for the better."

Limping slightly, he crossed the short distance, displaying the coats and draped them, carefully, over the shivering figure laid out on the low, hay platform. Dean sighed in pleasure as the heavy weight settled over him, enclosing him in its warm embrace. Sam re-arranged the covers, pulling them up and tucking them securely below his brother's chin.

The glow from the lamplight reflected from warm, hazel eyes as Sam rose to his full height and grinned down, shaking his head at the dopey smile on his brother's face as he burrowed deeper into the dark fleece.

"That warmer?"

"Mmmmhhh. Much."

Dean blinked slowly, his eyelids growing heavier as he struggled to keep his eyes open in the golden glow of the storm lantern. In the shadows over Sam's shoulder, he was vaguely aware of the presence of the ghost. He could sense its frustration, distress, longing. Yet strangely, he knew it meant them no harm. He blinked wearily in acknowledgment at the disembodied soul.

"Dean, listen to me. Your leg's started bleeding, again. I'm gonna have a look round and see if there's anything I can use to clean you up a little. You'll be alright if I go see what we've got here, yeah?"

Twin, flickering lanterns reflected in miniature from the glazed green pools that locked unsteadily onto Sam's face.

"'M okay, Kiddo. Just tired. Go knock yourself out!"

The soft voice rasped, sleepily.

"You get some sleep, Dean, okay? I won't be far."

"'Kay."

The word came out as nothing more than a whisper.

Sam backed away, his exhausted mind whirling, spinning as he tried to decide what to do first. Collecting the lamp he checked their discarded rucksacks, tipping the contents of both out into a small pile, inspecting their supplies in the wavering light. It didn't take long. Aside from the knife, sawed-off shotguns and spare shells, they had two flasks of holy water, a large canister of salt, kerosene in a flask, one granola bar and half a bag of M&M's.

Medical supplies were almost down to zero, an almost empty bottle of Ibuprofen and a small tube of antiseptic cream, the last remnants of the small first aid kit. Sam knew he had to stop the bleeding from the deep wound above his brother's knee, and try to find something for them both to eat.

He gathered their gear and hastily stuffed it back into one of the packs, and then grabbed the lantern from the floor as he made to rise. Raising it high he glanced around their shelter, at the back of the stable stood a small table and two chairs, upon which stood a further two lamps and what looked like a small, gas cooking stove.

To the left of it, in the corner, something huge was completely covered by a securely lashed tarpaulin, whilst to the right, sat a large, white painted store unit, three deep drawers at the bottom and one large cupboard at the top. Far to the right, beyond the wall mounted tack rack, sat two large paraffin heaters.

Sam glanced at his brother as he hurried to the table, setting the lamp down he pulled open the cupboard door, praying their good luck would for once, hold. To Sam's disbelieving eyes it was as if he had stumbled into Aladdin's Cave.

On the bottom shelf, canisters, tins and jars were stacked in orderly fashion, a small saucepan, camp kettle, tin opener and matches sat to one side. The top shelf held two large, square elaborately patterned tins and an old fashioned radio, but by far the best find, in Sam's mind was the green, plastic box with a heavy white cross emblazoned on the side.

"Aah, thank you!"

Sam breathed a prayer of relief, picking up the first aid box.

"Dean." He called as he flipped open the catches, "Hey, bro. We're in luck."

He quickly assessed its contents. Bandages, swabs, antiseptic wipes, scissors and numerous Band-Aids all carefully partitioned, met his delighted gaze and there, tucked into the bottom, behind the triangular slings was a disposable suture kit.

Within half an hour, Sam had both paraffin heaters dragged to the front of the stable and giving off a steady heat. Next to the makeshift bed near the door, on one of the chairs, he had laid out the medical supplies and a large bottle of rubbing alcohol and gauze to clean the wounds.

All three lamps were lit, the small camp kettle had just boiled and two steaming mugs of strong black coffee sat atop the table, the pungent aroma filling the stable. Quickly, he stirred in two large spoons of dark brown sugar, knowing he needed to get his brother's energy levels up.

Several tins of soup sat next to the small saucepan, ready for cooking and the two square tins from the top cupboard stood, lids discarded, one full of cookies the other with three quarters of a large fruitcake, wrapped in greaseproof paper. Sam wiped crumbs from his face before carrying the two enamelled mugs and placing them on the chair by the sleeping hunter's head.

He sat down beside his gently snoring brother on the left of the hay bales, taking a sip of his coffee before, carefully, raising the thick sheepskin jackets and pushing them back from Dean's lower limbs. Sam took a hold of Dean's left leg and gradually eased the snow damp denim up past his swollen, bruised knee.

Raptor looked up in interest, stretching her neck and stamping her dainty hooves, anxious at the sudden smell of blood.

"Steady girl, it's okay. He'll be okay, I promise!"

The grubby, blood-soaked bandage was still in place, but the various strains on his leg since that morning had proven too much for the pressure bandage to contain. The deep slice above his knee had bled more than once if the fresh blood now seeping through the stiffer dried brown stains, from earlier spills, was anything to go by.

A low, pain-filled groan startled Sam from his investigation. Instantly, he scooted up to his brother's head, calling out softly, to the weakly stirring figure.

"Dean? Hey, come on, dude. Wake up!"

"Oowhh, S...Sam?"

His eyelids fluttered, lashes casting long dancing shadows across his high cheekbones in the lamplight, unfocused eyes skittering in all directions as he lurched awake.

"Easy there, bro. Whoa, whoa, it's okay. I gotcha!"

Sam comforted, placing his hand, reassuringly, upon Dean's shoulder.

Momentarily unguarded, Dean's startled jade eyes allowed all his pain and fear to show through. He lay, panting, heaving in painful breaths as he fought to bring himself back under control.

"Dude, what're ya doin'? Crap, Sammy. That hurts."

His head turned to the side as nostril's flaring he struggled to subdue the pain, deep slow breaths, in through the nose and out through the mouth. Gradually, his forehead creased into a look of confusion. Suddenly his eyes shot wide open; he stared from the chair near his head to the worried face of his younger brother, with a quizzical gaze.

"Dude! Can I smell coffee?"

He struggled to rise, eyes searching wildly.

Sam's gentle chuckle filled the air,

"Yeah, there's coffee, and it's good! Here, lemme help you up a little and I'll pass it to you."

Dean was trying to wrestle his way out from under the coat, grimacing with the effort.

"Oh, man! That smells good, Sammy! Where the hell are we, anyway?"

He looked around in bewilderment, smiling as his gaze fell on the little donkey, which stood quietly regarding him with her liquid brown eyes.

"Hey, girl." He croaked softly, flopping back to the hay.

"Don't you remember, we got turned around in the blizzard outside and your friend there led us here? I got you inside on the sled and you face planted while I was looking around."

"Yeah, I think maybe I was hallucinating, ‘cause the last thing I remember was you warbling on about reindeer and camels."

Sam sniggered, shaking his head. "'Fraid you weren't imagining it, dude, we're sharing a stable in Bethlehem, with two antlered reindeer and a freakin' huge camel."

"Figures." Dean shrugged in resignation. "Did you find the three wise men and Santa's super-charged sleigh?

Sam shrugged, smiling tiredly.

"Nah, haven't had time to look yet."

He leant over, disentangling the worn hunter from the cover, and then gripped him securely beneath the arms.

"You ready, bro?"

Sam's eyes searched the pallid face as Dean nodded his acquiescence.

Sam braced, and hauled his brother to a sitting position, leaning him back against the rough, plank wall.

Dean bit down on his lip, scowling heavily as the heel of his boot scuffed along the hay.

"Uunnhh! Dammit!" He whispered head held low, as white-hot fire screamed from his knee.

Sam held him until he felt the breathing steady beneath his hands.

"Ready?" He asked softly.

"Hell, just pass me the damned coffee, Sam."

Dean reached out, his cracked, blistered hands trembling faintly. Gingerly he took the hot mug, balancing it between his fingertips. He sniffed appreciatively before taking a long sip, swallowed, then managed a larger gulp. Smiling, he sagged back against the wall.

"Oh, god. That's good! Sweet, but good." He murmured.

Sam cleared his throat as he sat sipping from his own mug.

"Well, we struck it lucky, here, bro. There's heat, light, even a camp stove. I'll make us some hot food in a little while. There's even a Christmas fruitcake and a tin of cookies, and I've not even searched all the drawers yet." He glanced up before hurrying on. "There's a great first aid box, it's even got a suturing kit. So, we can get you cleaned up and get your leg stitched up."

"I'm fine, Sammy. M'leg just needs a bit of a rest, is all. Did you say cookies?"

"Dean, please. Your leg's been bleeding, on and off, all day. I gotta clean it and rewrap your knee. I got good light here, so don't argue, dude. It's a real deep slice, and it needs stitching. Soon as it's done, I'll make some hot food. Okay? Then you can have as many cakes an' cookies as you like!"

Dean tipped back the last of his coffee and then let his eyes fall to the gory bandage gracing his lower thigh.

"'S'not bleeding anymore." He tried hopefully.

"Maybe not now, but you know as soon as you try to move it'll just open up again. It's gotta be stitched, Dean."

Acceding defeat, he placed the empty mug on the bale beside him. Face paling as he cast his eyes over the large bottle of rubbing alcohol and kit laid out upon the chair.

"'Kay, Sammy! Knock yourself out!" He swallowed nervously, "Uh, Sam, there any painkillers in that kit? I guess my knee is a little sore. Is it getting warm in here, Sam, or is it just me?"

He reached up, wiping the beads of sweat from his brow.

"Yeah, those heaters are kicking in nicely. Let's get your jacket off; I need to check out the cuts on your back too. Come on, lean forwards."

"Hey, Sammy! How come I got all these cuts and bruises and all you got to show is a peck on the head from a freakin' insane robin?" He dry swallowed the tablets Sam held out to him.

Dean looked up plaintively at his grinning brother.

"I guess I'm not Mr Clumsy, dude!" Sam laughed softly.

"Bite me, Sammy!" He growled.

"Okay, bro. Where d'you want me to start, your hands, back, knee, or toes? Or is there anything else in between you haven't told me about?"

"Nah, my shoulder's just fine." He smiled wryly.

"Okay, so I guess, we start at the top and work down."

Sam helped him lean forward and slipped the jacket and undershirts from the unresisting shoulders. He pulled at the grubby, blood stained t-shirt that hung over the loose waistband, and made to slip it over his brother's head.

Dean cried out as the soiled cotton ripped away from the dried lesions marring his back.

"Holy crap, Sammy!" Dean whispered, angrily.

"Sorry!" Sam winced in apology reaching for the alcohol rub. "Here, try and clean up your hands, while I get on with this." He passed Dean two antiseptic wipes from the kit.

‘Might take your mind off this mess.'

Sam worked quickly; cleaning and dressing the still inflamed, deeper gouges, leaving the lesser scratches open to dry in the air.

Raptor wrinkled her expressive face in distaste as the pungent liquid evaporated quickly in the warm air. She gave a gently hee-haw and backed away, trotting slowly to nibble at the hay, now strewn liberally around the dirt floor.

Dean tried to concentrate on cleaning the open, weeping blisters on his palms, rubbed raw from the contact with his walking stick. Hissing in pain, he cringed as the cold antiseptic bit deeply into the exposed skin of his back, stinging sharply, fiercely.

"Nearly there, bro." Sam crooned sympathetically.

Dean just nodded, silently, eyes closed tight against the pain.

As he sat up from taping the last dressing in place, Sam gently draped one of the discarded, soft flannel shirts, over his brother's exposed back. He folded Dean's worn leather jacket into a cushion for him to lean against.

Dean lay back with eyes closed, the tension he held himself under, betrayed by the taut muscles of his abdomen. He panted softly, the lamplight reflecting off the light sheen of sweat highlighting his brows.

"You need a minute there, bro?" Sam queried.

Dean shook his head. "Nah, I'm good. Whenever you're ready, Sammy." He breathed quietly.

"I'm gonna get your boots off, dude. Have a look at your toes, okay?"

"Oh, deep joy!" Dean paled further at the thought.

"You wanna lie flat for this? It's gonna hurt. "

"Hell, Florence, just get on with it. The commentary's not helping here!" Dean snapped, the pain making him sound unnecessarily harsh.

Sam shuffled stiffly to the bottom of the platform, loosening the laces in both boots and then carefully eased them off, first the left, trying not to jar the damaged knee, then the right.

Dean's whole body tensed against the pain, his eyes clamped tightly closed, he fought the whimpers that tried to escape his lips as Sam pried the cold, damp leather from his injured foot.

Sam worked quickly; he soaked the blood-stiffened sock with warm water from the small kettle, and left it to loosen as he cut the blood soaked bandage away from Dean's left thigh. The bandage fell away easily, wet as it was with fresh blood, exposing the inflamed flesh around the cut and the myriad coloured bruising that decorated his distended knee.

"You doing okay, Dean?" Sam called softly, hoping his brother would pass out before he cleaned up his knee and toes.

Dean just grunted, dipping his head briefly, in reply.

Sam moved back to the sock and teased it gently from the split nail and dried blood. He trickled the isopropyl alcohol over the toes, holding the foot steady as Dean sought to pull it away. Gasping as the liquid burnt it's way under the nails.

"Steady there, easy, Dean. Nearly done!"

Cleaning the small scissors with an antiseptic wipe, he trimmed off the worst of the protruding toenail, levelling it. Then he wrapped them in Melolin pads and taped them securely together.

At some point, he had felt Dean go limp beneath his hands, the strangled gasps subsiding into quiet moans, then short breaths as he slipped, gratefully, into the welcoming arms of oblivion.

Swiftly, hoping to complete the work on the wounded knee before his brother regained consciousness; Sam thoroughly swabbed Dean's lower thigh, cleaning away both fresh and dried blood.

Gently, he elevated the limb, supporting the crooked knee with one of the heavy sheepskins. Pouring alcohol over his hands, he scrubbed them clean allowing the cold fluid to evaporate as he opened the sterile suturing kit. With shaking hands he trickled more of the antiseptic liquid over the mouth of the wound. Dean groaned and stirred weakly.

"Not yet, bro. Don't wake up just yet."

Sam muttered under his breath, as he wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. He was tired beyond belief and the heat of the barn was calling him to sleep. He was really in no shape to do this now but the ugly, jagged edges of the gash compelled him to hold it together for a little longer. With a deep sigh, he steeled himself for the task ahead.

Dean stirred fitfully, mumbling and moaning as the needle pierced his inflamed flesh. Pain spiking, reaching through the layers of darkness, calling to him as each fresh stitch was formed, gently pulling the skin together.

As always, Sam fought the nausea that accompanied him every time he stitched his brother back together, hating himself for the pain it caused, hating every time it had been necessary. His hands trembled as he tied off the last stitch and gently wiped away the blood that had seeped out during the process. Ripping open a sterile pad, he taped it securely down.

He finished off, wrapping the mottled knee and pad in a thick elasticated bandage; he breathed a deep sigh of relief.

He cleared the area of any evidence of his ministrations and carefully straightened his brother's jeans. As he stepped back, he gave in to the rising tide of nausea that he had fought for so long, and bolting for the stable door, he knelt outside in the ice cold of the night and allowed his stomach to void itself.

Shivering and exhausted, Sam staggered back into the barn, pulled the door to and leant back, resting his head against the wooden wall. Sucking in huge gulps of the warm air, his breathing gradually calmed and the tremors receded.

He turned off one of the heaters, conserving the fuel for the long night ahead, and gently covered Dean with one of the coats. Setting the kettle to boil, he selected a couple of tins of soup and emptied them into the small saucepan. Wearily, he made more of the strong sweet coffee, and then set the soup to heat slowly. His mouth watered as the aroma of chicken soup filled the air.

As he waited for his brother to wake and the soup to heat through, his eyes fell upon the large tarpaulin draped shape to the rear of the stall. It was huge, and peeping from the bottom was the tip of a long runner. Sam's hopes rose as thoughts of a snowmobile and easy way out of their predicament, leapt to mind.

From the front of the stable, a long, low groan, followed by a sharper cry of pain, called for his more immediate attention.

"Sam! Sammy?"

"Dean, it's okay! I'm coming." He retrieved the fresh coffees and hurried to his brother's side as Dean struggled to rise.

Dean's bleary-eyed stare greeted him as he rounded the stalls.

"Hey, Sammy. Sorry I checked out before the finale, dude. Thanks for sorting me out. You okay? You had any rest yet?"

He smiled his thanks as Sam passed him the steaming brew.

"I'm good. Still checking out the back of the stable though. I figure I'd better keep going, cause once I sit down, I don't think I'll be getting up again for a while. It's been a real fun couple of days up here!"

"Yeah. Sorry ‘bout that, bro. Nothin' really went the way I had it planned. It was meant to be a Christmas to remember. A good Christmas!"

"I never said I wouldn't remember it, Dean."

Sam smiled, shaking his head.

"You want some chicken soup? It's just about ready."

"Soup? I thought you mentioned cookies an cake."

"Yeah, soup first though. Then you can eat what you like."

Sam fetched the saucepan and a spoon.

"Eat as much as you like, dude. I've already eaten and there's plenty more back there. I'm gonna check out what else is stashed up the back there."

Leaving Dean to his meal, Sam made straight for the mysterious, shrouded mound; he tugged at the tarpaulin, hauling it in towards himself. It was instantly apparent that the sled runners did not belong to a snowmobile. However, any disappointment that may have briefly shown on his face was instantly replaced with a look of stunned, jaw-dropping amazement.

As the oiled cloth fell clear, there, resplendent in its red and gold paint, deep red velvet with white fur trimmed seats and huge sack, full to the brim with brightly coloured boxes of sweets, sat a beautiful sleigh. Sam reached out a hand, lightly running a finger along the row of dainty bells suspended from an alcove in the front panelling. A merry jingling filled the night air, and from the side stalls the reindeer stamped and coughed in excitement.

"Well, I'll be a..." Sam's whispered breathlessly.

"Sam! What in hells bells was that? Tell me the big bearded fella, in a red coat, hasn't just dropped in to fly us back to Bethlehem!"

Dean chuckled, craning his neck to see what his brother was up to.

"Dean, I just found Sa..."

The rest was lost as Sam, walking backwards, unable to take his eyes off the gleaming carriage, reversed straight into the soft eyed camel, who had stuck its large, shaggy head over the stall door to see what was going on. He walked straight into the side of its woolly neck and stumbled. Off balance, he tumbled to the floor, and sat staring straight up into the rather unimpressed face of the yawning beast that peered at him from beneath a long, shaggy mop of hair.

The tawny coloured dromedary batted it's long, thick eyelashes at the startled hunter and waggled its small ears before shaking its elongated face, sending a spray of camel spit in all directions.

Dean witnessed the entire scene, erupting into a howl of laughter at the look of abject horror, now plastered on his brother's face. Sam scooted backwards, frantically wiping the pungent saliva from his face with the back of his hand.

"Holy crap!" Sam managed, spluttering.

"I don't fancy yours much, Sammy, but I think you've pulled there, dude!" Dean laughed aloud, holding onto his knee as the laughter induced rocking threatened to awaken the joint to fresh agony.

He looked from the mop haired camel in the stall, to the flop haired figure on the floor and giggled uncontrollably.

"Sammy, it's a match made in heaven. You've even got the same hair stylist!"

Dean ducked the filthy, balled up sock that flew in his direction, continuing to snigger despite the jarring to his various wounds.

"Ah, man, the look on your face. That was just priceless, dude."

Sam, struggling to maintain his dignity, picked himself up from the floor brushing the hay, straw and dirt from his already grubby clothes. As a wave of dizziness overcame him, he sat heavily on the low bales and leant forwards, dropping his head into his hands, momentarily lost for words.

"Sam? Sammy, you okay?" Dean was instantly contrite. "Dude, you hurt yourself?"

Sam shook his head slowly. "'M fine. Just a little tired is all. Um, Dean?"

"What's up, Sam?"

"Just now, before the, uh..." He jutted his chin in disgust at the swaying camel. "Up the back there, I just found...well it sure looks like...I, I mean, it can't be, but it really does look like..."

"Sam, you hit your head? You're babbling. Come here let me look at your eyes. What did you find?"

"Santa's sleigh!" He met his brother's eyes squarely. "Under the tarp, back there. I just pulled it off, and there it was, presents ‘n' all."

"Ookaay! Sam, you're tired. Come and sit down, you need to get some rest. In fact..."

"Dean, I am tired, very tired. But I'm not imagining it, bro. This must be some Bethlehem Christmas storage depot for all things Christmassy. I don't know, dude. Maybe it's for some Christmas procession. Maybe it belongs to some crazy hermit, who thinks he's Santa. Hell for all I know, Dean, it could be Santa's very own, freaking Grotto. All I do know, is that there's a sleigh, topped up with presents, sitting up the back of this stable."

Sam bent down, undoing his snow stained boots, groaning softly as he pulled them from his feet. Blood spotted Sam's worn socks where the long walk in his wet boots had chaffed at his skin.

"Sam, you got blisters? Here, lemme see! Pass me that first aid kit. Come on, let's get you sorted and then we'll both get some sleep. We'll worry about Santa's sleigh in the morning."

Dean worked diligently, cleaning and dressing the open blisters on both Sam's feet. Raptor had returned to chew lazily at the hay bales, and around them the noises of the other occupants filled the air. The camel, having lost its initial shyness now stood with its shaggy head peering over the stall, chewing the cud, steadily, as it regarded them through its black eyes. The reindeer, remained hidden in the shadows at the back of the pen. Raptor's large ears twitched at the plaintive bleating of the baby goat in the first stall.

Sam's head began to nod as he drifted contentedly off to sleep; slumped in the chair his long bangs falling across his face. Dean finished with his brother's feet and packed the kit tidily away.

wWw

The hiker smiled as he observed the care and devotion of the Winchester brothers for each other. These were brothers in the truest sense and they had begun to restore his long lost faith in mankind. He bit down his impatience to have them deliver the conclusion he so desired and basked in the warmth of their love for each other.

wWw


"Sammy, wake up." He called softly, gently shaking a long leg. "Sammy, you can't sleep there, you'll get cold and fall off. Come on, bro. Wake up!"

Sleepily, Sam raised his head, yawning widely. "Sorry, didn't mean to fall asleep." He blinked blearily.

"Sam, get on here, there's plenty of room. Grab one of these coats, and get your head down. I'll keep watch, bro. Get some sleep."

"'Kay, Dean." Sam's head turned towards the ever-increasing cries coming from the door of the goat pen. "Dude, what's the matter with the little fella. I'll never get to sleep with that racket."

"Something's sure got it shook! Go pass it over here, Sam and I'll see if I can keep it quiet."

Obediently, Sam trotted over to the stall and hooked the loudly bleating, little black and white goat over the top of the door and presented it to his still smiling brother. It quietened instantly, snuggling into the warmth of the thick fleece that lay across his muscular chest.

"Just call me ‘The Goat Whisperer'", he quipped, delightedly. "Now go get some sleep, Sam!"

And so it came to pass, that the two exhausted hunters found food, warmth and shelter, bedding down for the night amidst the beasts of the stable.


Ends



Hope the Stable was up to your Christmassy expectations!! We promise, explanations will follow.

Join us for tomorrow’s chapter “Follow the Star!” as the boys go back out into the snowy wilderness and encounter Save 10 on their long, perilous journey back to safety.

We would dearly love to hear what you think of it so far and hope you stick around for the rest of the tale, it will NOT conclude on Christmas Day, as we have some explaining to do and the boys still have to somehow finish their hunt!


Jane x