Author's Note: Merry Christmas! Sorry for the delay. I tried to post this earlier but the site crashed. So, today, I will be updating as much as I can. Those of you who I don't get to today, I will get by New Year's. Sorry for the delay! My personal life exploded this month and I had so much stuff to get through. Anyways, thank you for your patience.

This prompt comes from SupernaturallyEgocentric who asked for, "How about Sam being kidnapped by Frosty the Snowman?" I adore this prompt. Sorry for the delay in getting it to you. Merry Christmas! This is set pre-series when Sam is about 6.

"Frosty the snowman is a fairy tale, they say,

He was made of snow but the children know

How he came to life one day."

Michael Bublé, "Frosty the Snowman"

In December, they settled into a small, comfortable house on the outskirts of a small town in Illinois. Their father was relatively calm, given how he always struggled with memories of their mother this time of year and Dean believed that this year, they might get the Christmas that Sam coveted—the one with the tree, the trimmings and all the presents they could afford. Dean wanted nothing more than to give that to his little brother, but he was afraid to approach his father and ask. What if he said no? What would Dean do then in order to make Christmas magical for his baby brother?


"Huh?" Sam's voice snapped him out of his reverie and he smiled warmly as the six-year-old's curious hazel eyes locked onto his. "What's up, Sammy?" He ruffled his baby brother's hair and was rewarded by a peal of laughter by his baby brother.

"Christmas is this week!" Sam exclaimed and Dean nodded. "Do you think Daddy will be home in time?" At that, the older Winchester grimaced, though he did his best to side it from his brother. Their father was out on a hunt, leaving Dean in charge for the week and though he had promised to be home in time for Christmas, the elder Winchester doubted he would make it. Kids were going missing in this town—simply gone without a trace—and he knew his father wouldn't rest until he figured out what was going on.

"Maybe, Sammy," He settle for with a small smile. "You never know."

"Miss Hanson says that lots of good stuff happens at Christmas," His little brother commented, bringing up his new teacher, a woman that Sam absolutely enjoyed. "So, if I keep hoping, it should happen!"

"A Christmas miracle, I guess?" Dean ventured and Sam nodded his head vigorously.

"Yeah!" He chirped, bouncing up and down as he moved to the frosty window. "Dean, can we go play outside in the snow?"

"Right now?" Truth was, Dean was cold enough inside the house—Dad forgot to pay their heating bill before he left—and he wasn't really sure he wanted to venture out into the frozen world.

"Please, Dean!" His little brother begged, his puppy eyes out in full force. "Please, please, please!"

"Okay, okay," He gave in, sighing softly. "Get your coat on." Sam disappeared into the bedroom to fetch his clothes while Dean pulled on his gloves, frowning slightly at the holes in them. He really needed to ask for some new clothes but with the foul mood their father had been in; he hadn't want to risk it. Now that John was gone though—

"Do you want Santa to bring you new gloves?" Sam keenly observed and the older Winchester jerked his hand down, hiding them behind his back. "You should ask him for them. I bet he would bring it to you."

"Why's that?" Dean mumbled as he checked over Sam, making sure he was securely decked out in his clothes.

"Cause you're a good kid." He said it so earnestly and with such a wonderful smile that Dean felt himself grin in return. He loved this kid, so much more than he could ever express.

"Thanks, Sammy."

"So, snow?" He tugged on Dean's arm and chuckling, the older brother let him go out, shutting the door securely behind him. They were the only ones outside—their father had deliberately picked a place far away from other families—but the elder Winchester still scanned the area, just in case. No one except a snowman with coal eyes, a button nose and a silk top hat was there. Idly, Dean wondered who built the snowman, as he was sure it wasn't there yesterday. Still, it was harmless and the older brother allowed his attention to drift back to his brother.

They played outside for a few hours until the sun began to set and Dean decided it was time to get a fire going and get warm.

"Can we roast marshmallows in the fire place too?"

"Yeah, Sam, sure." He wasn't going to deny Sam anything this week, not when he knew that Christmas wasn't going to happen. Their father wouldn't come back in time. Santa would come—though Sam would never know whom he really was—but hey, this was their life.

"Yay!" Sam exclaimed and they entered the house, Dean locking the door behind him.

Outside in the snow, the silk hat on the snowman began to glow.

He wakes up with the feeling of foreboding so strong that he goes from sleepy to alert in just a few seconds. He reaches from the knife he keeps under his pillow—the one his father taught him how to use—and he turns his head to the side where Sam should be sleeping only to find that it's empty.

Sam isn't there.

"Sammy?" He whispers, unsure if there is someone in the house. He silently gets down from the bed and makes his way to the light switch. Flipping it on, he sees Sam's covers thrown back, but no signs of a struggle. The window, closed before bed, is now open. A chilled breeze kisses Dean's face and he frowns as he sees the unmistakable footprints of his baby brother in the snow, following something huge. "Sammy!" He throws on a coat and some shoes and grabs the gun his father taught him to use only in emergencies. The night is dark and the cold bites at him, chilling him to his very core. Still, he pushes on.

He isn't just about to give up and lose his brother. There's no way that's going to happen.

"Sam!" His voice echoes and seems to be drowned out by the wind. He can barely see where he is going, but he forces his body to keep moving. Finally, the wind suddenly stops and he gains his visibility back. "Sam?"

"And what have we here?" A voice coos and Dean pulls out the gun, his hands shaking as he aims it where the voice came from. A woman steps out onto the porch, her raven hair seemingly sparkling as her crimson lips turn upwards in a sinister smiles. "The other boy?"

"G-give m-me b-back m-m-y b-b-brother." He stammers, the cold consuming him.

"Ah, you poor little boy," She laughs. "You wandered all this way in my storm to retrieve your brother?" She waves her hand and the snowman from before clomps in. "Frosty, show him the boy." The snowman holds out his hands to reveal the unconscious younger Winchester.

"Sam!" He wants to rush forward but the cold holds him back. The woman—witch he knows now—chuckles.

"Pity," She sighs. "If you were a bit younger, you two could go together."

"I'm not g-going t-t-to let you k-kill him." He moves his finger on the trigger and she shakes her head.

"You won't be able to fire that and even if you did," She steps towards him. "You're shaking too much to actually do any damage." She turns to the snowman. "Kill him." Frosty deposits Sam on the snow and moves blindly towards Dean who staggers back.

A shot rings through the air and hits the silk hat off the snowman's head. He freezes, seemingly confused before going back to the form of a normal snowman.

"What?" The witch breathes and Dean feels a strong arm pull him up and hold him steady. "Hunter!"

"You fucked with the wrong family lady," John growls, low and deadly, letting it rumble in his chest. It's comforting to Dean because he had truly been over his head. His father had come through. "And you'll pay." The witch frowns but waves her hands once more, a red glow emanating from them.

"It is not I who shall perish," She begins. "But you, hunter!" She throws her hands forward and John rolls to the side as spikes fly up out of the ground. Safely cradling Dean, he rises.

"Get your brother!"

"But Dad—!"

"That's an order!" He fires off a shot of his gun and hits the witch in the shoulder. Dean rushes from Sam and pulls his baby brother's into his arms. Holding him tightly, he runs for cover as more gunshots ring out behind him. Hiding behind a tree, Dean allows himself to breathe.

"It's okay, Sammy." He reassures his brother. "I promise." He can hear more spikes being summoned followed by his father's pained groan. Still, the older Winchester remains where he is until, after what feels like an eternity, all is silent.

"Dean?" Dean rises from his hiding spot, still holding Sam securely and faces his father. John holds his arm and frowns as he puts pressure on the bleeding wound. "Sam okay?"

"I think so," He mumbles. "He just looks like he hit his head."

"Let go home then."

"Yes, sir."

"He was a nice snowman," Sam explains, a few days later after the ordeal. John is out buying Christmas presents—almost losing his sons apparently jolted him back into good father mode—and Dean is happy that Sam will at least get the experience of one normal Christmas. "He told me he had to take me because a mean witch enchanted his hat."

"Uh-huh." John said not to indulge Sam on his "fantasies", as they were still trying to protect him from the reality of their life.

"Really, Dean!" Sam huffs. "I felt sorry for him. He seemed really nice!"

"Look, Sam, you dreamed it all up." Dean lies through gritted teeth. It's really for the best after all.

"I didn't!"


A few moments of silence.

"Hey, Dean?"


A pair of small arms encircles his waist and holds him tight.

"I love you."

"I love you too, Sammy."

No matter what would happen to them in the future, Dean knows that will never change.

For Sam, he would do anything.

For Sam, he would sacrifice everything.

That's the way it would always be.

Author's Note: More updates later, I promise. Please review if you have a second. Merry Christmas!