Title: Will you be Home for Christmas?

Author: Supernaturaldh

Characters: Sam and Dean

Rating: PG-13 (Gen/Angst)

Disclaimer: Sadly, no ownership here.

Summary:Now that Sam had his soul back, Dean wondered if he'd really be home for Christmas? Set directly following episode 'Appointment in Samara'.

Will you be Home for Christmas?

It'd been twenty four hours since Sam Winchester had gotten his soul forced back inside his body by the horseman Death. Fourteen hundred and forty minutes longer than Dean Winchester was willing to wait for his little brother to wake up.

Death had done the deed in a hurry, and it worried Dean just a tad. What if the wall that he'd put up in Sam's mind didn't work? What then? What if? He tried not to think about it. "Don't scratch it," Death had said. Dean would always remember those words. He just hoped that Sammy did.

The older brother slumped down in the worn out wicker rocker that Bobby had brought down from upstairs. He stared at Sam. His brother looked almost peaceful, like he was just resting. Dean knew better though, he was sure Sam's mind was a tangled mess. He remembered coming back from hell him self, how hard it was, and that he'd only been there forty years. He couldn't imagine what Sam had been through. He sighed. He was just so tired of all this crap, what ever happened to saving people, hunting things?

He and Bobby had decided not to move Sam, not until he'd woken up, not until they knew that it was really Sam. So, his brother's too long body was still sprawled out on the tiny cot in the panic room, one wrist still attached with a cuff link to the bed.

Dean had stayed firmly planted at Sam's side the entire time, waiting to see which Sam he got back when his little brother decided to grace them with his presence. Please let it be Sammy please let it be Sammy please let it be Sam.

He heard Bobby shuffling down the stairs.

Their surrogate father hadn't left Sam's side much either; just a few trips upstairs, only to return with food or drink. Dean hated that Android Sam had attempted to kill Bobby. Just the thought, well it made his stomach churn. But Bobby, he seemed oblivious to Sam's attempt to kill him. The senior hunter acted like it wasn't a big deal. "No harm, no foul," he'd told Dean. At least they could always count on Bobby, no matter what they did.

He tugged his head up from its position resting on his fisted hands and yawned as he watched the older man make his way across the room.

"Coffee," Bobby stated as he handed a scalding hot cup of brew to Dean.

"God yes," Dean said almost giddily. He pushed up straighter in the chair and brought the hot cup to his lips. He swigged down half the steaming liquid in one large gulp.

"It's snowing outside." Bobby randomly said as he tugged his own hot cup of java up against his parting lips.

Dean's eyes widened slightly, "Really?"

"Yeah, looks like we might have a white Christmas after all."

Dean looked perplexed," Christmas?"

Bobby huffed in disbelief.

"Yes dimwit, Christmas, you know Santa, elves, reindeer yada yada yada." The older man waived his hand dismissively.

"Huh," Dean snorted. He'd forgotten all about Christmas what with Sam's soul and all.

"It's Christmas eve Dean, geez, what planet you been living on here?" Bobby chuckled and leaned against the wall. He gazed down at Sam's resting form. "How's he doing? Any change?"

"No change, still the same." Dean frowned and tugged the cup back up against his lips.

They watched Sam in silence.

Bobby pushed off of the wall. "Let's take shifts staying down here, we're beat, and I think Sam will need at least one of us when he wakes up."

Dean nodded his head in agreement. As much as he didn't want to leave Sam down here, he certainly didn't want to leave Sam down here alone. He'd never do that again. Sam was not facing anything by himself ever again, but then he also knew he was eventually going to have to get some sleep.

"I'll take the first shift, you go get some shuteye." Dean said as he pushed the empty coffee cup at Bobby.

"You sure," Bobby squinted tiredly at Dean. "I can take first shift." he offered.

"I'm fine, you go." Dean said as he shifted in the chair. The coffee had helped some, he felt like he was more awake. I just want to stay with Sam.

Bobby nodded, reached over and took the empty cup. He made his way tiredly back up the stairs.

"I'll just sleep a couple of hours," he yelled down to Dean, "I'll come relieve you in a bit."

Dean didn't reply, just rocked back and forth in the old rocker, his eyes focused on his little brother's face.


"Hello Dean," Castiel's voice awoke Dean with a start.

The dozing hunter blinked tiredly at the angel. He looked at Sam. No change.

"So word has it you made a deal with Death?" Castiel frowned.

Dean just rolled his eyes and yawned. I must have dozed off. "Well, somebody had to help and you weren't doing shit."

Castiel looked with confusion at his friend. "I told you Dean, I wouldn't do anything I didn't think it was going to be good for Sam."

"Whatever," Dean huffed. He pushed to stand up. "You just don't get it do you Cas, Sam wasn't Sam without his soul." He paced around the angel.

"No Dean, I do get it, it's just well we aren't sure what you're really getting here when Sam wakes up." The angel looked upset. "Are we?"

Dean blew out a weary sigh. "Well, anything with a soul is better than Sam without one."

"I hope for your sake that you're right." Cas looked heatedly at Dean.

"What happened to you? Dean spat out angrily. "You used to give a shit."

"Its war Dean, I have more to deal with than just your brother."

And with a flutter of wings, Castiel disappeared.

"Whatever," Dean huffed in discontent. Damn angels are freaking worthless. I don't have time to worry about a war in heaven, I've got Sam and that's the only thing I'm worrying about anymore. He sat back down in the rocking chair and looked across at Sam.

"Please Sam, you need to wake up, you need to be okay." He whispered. "Come on brother, it's Christmas, don't you want to be awake for it dude?" If he'd just wake up, if he'd just be his Sammy again….


The first sign that Sam was waking up was a low guttural moan that ghosted lightly past his lips.

Dean sat up straighter. "Sammy?" Heavy concern edged its way tightly into his tone. He moved the chair closer to the cot. He reached his hand out and gripped Sam's in his own.

Sam whimpered, but didn't open up his eyes.

"Sammy?" Dean said again. He moved his free hand up and pressed it lightly to Sam's brow. He brushed the too long messy bangs from Sam's pale face. He waited for what seemed liked forever and then Sam's finger moved.

The older brother's heart pounded loudly in his ears. Oh my God, it's Sammy; it is it is it is. "Sammy?" he whispered anxiously.

Slowly eyelashes fluttered. Sam's face leaned into Dean's hand.

It was a rush. Dean felt like the ground was falling out from under him. Please please please please let this be my Sammy. Please. "Sammy?"

Sam could feel a hand in his own, it felt like home. Where am I?

"Sammy, are you okay?" Dean asked.

Sam blinked and stared wide eyed at the face in front of him. His head was a mass of emptiness. He didn't really know where he was or how he even got to be here? His eyes darted around.

"Hey, hey, Sammy, look at me."

Warm hands gripped Sam by the arms, wide, caring eyes staring intently into his.

"Look at me." Dean said again.

A low sob slipped past Sam's lips. The hand cuffs cutting at his skin.

"Bobby," Dean yelled, "BOBBY, GET DOWN HERE!" he screamed at the top of his lungs.

Suddenly, Bobby bounded down the stairs. "I got it." He said quickly as he dropped down by Sam's side. The cuffs were immediately removed.

The kid pushed away, his but dropping to the floor as he fell off the tiny cot. He backed as far away from Dean and Bobby as he could get. Up against the wall, his long limbs curling in on himself. His hazel eyes were huge.

Dean's hands came out, palms up, eyes pleading with his confused little brother.

"Dean," Bobby whispered, "be careful, he's skittish."

"Sam?" Dean said quietly.

Bobby stood silent, watching. God I hope we didn't make a mistake letting Death do this? The older man chewed his lower lip. He watched as Dean moved slowly forward. "It's okay Sammy, it's just me," the big brother cooed. "It's Dean, you're okay buddy." He smiled reassuringly through his tear bright blue eyes at Sam. It was Sam it's really Sam.

Sam looked lost and scared.

"Easy Sammy," Dean said as he moved closer his hand reaching out for his incoherent little brother.

Sam flinched minutely but he didn't pull away.

"Easy, you're okay." Dean said again. He tugged Sam's quivery body toward him. His arms drawing Sammy close.

Slowly a mop top of wild hair rose. Bright hazel eyes looked in confusion at Dean. "D-e-a-n," he hiccupped out.

"Yeah kiddo," Dean's arms tightened in their hold. "It's me, Sammy, you're okay."

"D-e-a-n," he said again. Tears rolled unabated down his cheeks.

"Oh God, Sammy," Dean pulled Sam closer to his side. "It's okay Sammy, its okay, you're home."