#general pairing

You went at it solo, and one werewolf turned into three, forcing you to think on your feet to finish off the pack. You managed to kill them all, but one got a pretty good swipe across your stomach, leaving you unable to continue the rest of the way to your mom’s house without the possibility of bleeding out. Even if you made it, the last thing you needed was your mom wondering why you were holding your stomach and bleeding profusely.

You were close to a guy named Bobby’s old cabin based on the notes you had, so you decided to stop and patch yourself up, only realizing just how deep the gashes were once you began to stitch the wound closed. Several feet of dental floss and almost a whole bottle of whiskey later, you were finished, immediately passing out from either the whiskey or the pain; you weren’t quite sure which one you succumbed to first.

You woke up, cleaned yourself and the wound, and made some breakfast. You were slow and sluggish on your feet and felt lightheaded at the slightest movement. The stitches were pretty sloppy thanks to your inebriation, but they seemed to be holding, so you didn’t worry. You were luckily able to find some instant coffee and were currently laying on the couch sipping the hot and bitter liquid. You had a plush blanket around your lower half and with the fireplace in the cabin going full blast, you quickly fell asleep again surrounded by warmth.

You were startled out of your slumber by the door to the cabin opening quickly, followed by a cold blast of air and two loud voices. You immediately opened your eyes and reached for your pistol in its spot on the coffee table. You blinked the sleep away from your eyes as you aimed your gun at the two intruders, clicking the safety off.

“Whoa, who the hell are you?” One of the men asked. He was shorter of the two, which didn’t mean much since they were both giants.

“Who are you?” You demanded, your finger resting shakily on the trigger, ready to pull if they tried anything.

“I asked you first sweetheart,” he smirked, staring at your chest. In your panic, you forgot you were just in a tank top with no bra, giving him a clear view of your cleavage.

You pulled the blanket up under your arms and scowled at his leering. “I’m the one with the gun, asshole. So stop staring at my tits and tell me who the fuck you are.”

The taller man to his right held up his hands and smiled. “I’m Sam, this is my brother Dean. Are you a hunter?”

“Winchester?” You asked and he nodded. You clicked the safety back on your pistol again and set it back down on the coffee table. Figures the Winchester boys would be your holiday companions. Just God’s way of piling onto the shit sundae that has been your week. “Yeah, I’m a hunter, my name is Y/N. Got hurt on a hunt yesterday and made it here to recover.” You groaned as you shifted into a sitting position.

“Mind if I take a look?” Sam asked, gesturing to your stomach. “We’ve been doing this for a really long time and you look pretty young. Did you stitch yourself up?”

Sam seemed genuine in his request, unlike his brother who was still eyeing you like a piece of meat, so you trusted him. You nodded and he came over to the side of the couch, kneeling down to get a better look at your injury. You had bled through the bandages again, leaving your tank top soaked in blood. Sam gently lifted up the bottom of your shirt and hissed through his teeth when he saw the condition of your wound.

“Dean, she’s got an infection. Go get the first aid kit out of the trunk and the prescription stash,” he commanded.

Dean nodded, switching from a smitten school boy to a serious and hardened hunter in a split second, leaving the cabin and heading to his car. You had assumed the warmth you were feeling was from the fireplace and blanket, but now that Sam had mentioned an infection, you realized you were sweating and dizzy. It was a fever.

You looked up at him and tears began to burn your eyes. If they hadn’t showed up, you probably would have died within a few days. Sam must have noticed the tears in the corner of your eyes and your pale complexion, as he scooped up your hand in his own.

“Hey, you’re gonna be okay, Y/N. How long have you been hunting?”

You swallowed thickly and took a deep and shaky breath. “About seven months. My college roommate was killed by a vampire and I helped the hunter that came to my town kill the nest. He gave me some lore books, some phone numbers of other hunters, and the locations of all the hunter cabins.”

“College? How old are you?”

“I’m only nineteen,” you shrugged. “Had to start somewhere, I guess.”

Sam nodded as Dean opened the door, a worn leather bag in one hand and a clear Ziploc bag filled with prescription bottles in the other. He handed the items to Sam, who unzipped the first aid kit, removing some rubber gloves and scissors.

“I have to remove your stitches and clean the cuts before I can reclose it, okay? You want something to bite down on? This isn’t going to be pleasant.” Sam pulled on the rubber gloves and you folded your tank top up, tucking it under your breasts.

“I’m okay. I was a… a klutz when I was a kid. Constantly breaking bones and stuff, so I’m used to pain.” You awkwardly smiled, trying to cover your lie and Sam nodded, not pushing the explanation any further.

“If you feel the urge to pass out, don’t fight it. Having you knocked out while I’m cleaning and stitching it back up will be easier… for both of us.” Sam picked up the scissors and took a deep breath. “Here we go.”

The moment Sam began to start cutting and removing your botched dental floss stitches, you groaned squeezed your eyes shut. The skin around the cuts was sensitive enough, but with the infection there, it was almost unbearable. Dean was at your side immediately and grabbed your hand, allowing you to squeeze his to deal with the pain. You looked up at him and tried to glare, but you growled and screamed out in pain.

You felt lightheaded and your breathing began to speed up, making Sam stop his cuts and look up at you as your chest heaved. You whimpered as your eyes fluttered shut, and the last thing you heard was Sam saying your name before you slipped into darkness.

The first thing you felt was a sharp stinging sensation on your stomach like someone was stabbing you. Your eyes shot open and you tried to scream, but it came out as a choked gurgle. There was something cold and wet across your forehead and you looked around, eyeing Sam as he quickly stood from the chair in the corner of the room and crouched down next to you.

You were laying in a bed in one of the rooms of the cabin with a cold washcloth over your forehead. Sam smiled when he saw you look at him.

“Hey, welcome back. We weren’t sure when you were going to wake up. Or if you were going to wake up,” he placed his hand on your arm. “You’re safe, try to relax and not move.”

You took a deep breath and nodded, but when you tried to speak, but it came out as a raspy squeak. Sam held up a finger and left the room, returning a few seconds later with a bottle of water. He uncapped it and held it for you while you drank so you didn’t chug it down so quickly that you choked and ripped your stitches.

“Thank you,” you said, wiping away the water that dribbled onto your chin with the back of your hand. “How long was I out?”

“Almost three days.” He dropped the empty water bottle into the trash. “Your fever broke late last night thanks to the antibiotics. You were lucky the snowstorm wasn’t too bad when we found you. Dean had to run and get an IV for you at the hospital since you wouldn’t wake up to take the pills.”

You looked down at your arm and eyed the small needle mark with some light bruising around it. “You did all this?”

Sam nodded. “You can learn to do pretty much anything on the internet.”

You laughed, but quickly stopped and groaned, feeling the stitches tug. “Oww. Don’t make me laugh, Winchester.”

Sam smiled. “Well, we’re snowed in for the foreseeable future, so you might as well get comfortable and let your body heal. I hope you don’t mind some company for the holidays.”

You pouted and looked down, picking at your fingernails. You were definitely not going home for the holidays and now you were going to miss the hunt for the tree and the eggnog decoration challenge. Sam noticed your change in demeanor and tapped your leg, making you look up at him with tears welling up in your eyes.

He frowned when he saw you were about to cry. “I swear, we’re not that bad of company.”

“No, not that,” you shook your head and sighed, “I’m gonna miss going home for the holidays. Miss out on my family’s tradition.”

Sam cocked his head to the side. “What tradition?”

You explained to him how you would all go out in the woods as a family and find the fullest and tallest tree that would fit in the house and take turns cutting it down. Once it was down, you would drag it back to the house and break out the eggnog. You told him how your Uncle Mark would add almost a half-bottle of extra rum to the eggnog and everyone would drink while the tree was decorated, and the first one to break something, fall down, or pass out had to play Santa and be humiliated on Christmas.

Sam watched you explain the tradition and saw how your eyes lit up as you remembered the memories of past Christmases with your family. He felt guilty that you weren’t able to spend the holiday with them, and it made him realize how many normal family traditions he missed out on when he was growing up. He began to hatch a plan in his mind that would require Dean’s help, but he wanted to give you something to brighten your Christmas.

“Your family sounds fun,” Sam smiled. “Most hunters don’t really have any family left, so it’s pretty rare to see a hunter that heads home for the holidays.”

“Well, this is one hunter that won’t be heading home for the holidays this year,” you gestured at your bandaged stomach. “Would you mind grabbing my phone so I can let my mom and step-dad know where I am and that I won’t be making it?” You yawned, suddenly overcome with fatigue and Sam stood up, nodding.

“You get some rest, I’ll grab your phone and text them for you. Are they under ‘Mom and Stepdad’ in your phone?”

You shook your head. “No, my mom is under ‘Mom’ but my stepdad is under ‘Ducky’.” Sam raised an eyebrow at your nickname and you smiled. “Long story. Just tell them that I got stuck at work and wouldn’t be able to make it through the snowstorm in time for Christmas.”

“Okay,” Sam pulled the blanket up around your chest, “you’re definitely going to have to explain his nickname when you wake up… but for now, get some sleep.” He walked around the bed and walked toward the doorway to shut off the light.

You wiggled down so you were lying flat and sighed happily at the warmth of the blankets. “Thank you for taking care of me, Sam,” you quietly murmured.

Sam turned around to tell you that you were welcome, but you were already fast asleep, your eyes closed and lips parted. He smiled, flipped off the light, and quietly shut the door behind him.

He and Dean had a busy day ahead of them.

You woke the following morning after a very fitful twenty hours of sleep. Your stomach was considerably less painful than it was yesterday and you were able to shuffle, albeit slowly, to the bathroom to pee without any help. You heard muffled voices coming from the living room, but before you were able to leave the bedroom to investigate, the door opened to reveal Sam carrying a steaming plate of eggs and bacon.

“Hey, you’re up and moving around!” He exclaimed, walking over and putting the plate on the night stand beside the bed. “Lay down really quick so I can take that bandage off and you can shower. You slept for a while. Do you feel any better?”

“Much, thanks to you and Dean,” you said, moving back over to the bed and laying down. You lifted up your shirt and Sam gingerly removed the current bandage, trying to be as careful as possible to not hurt you when the scabs were stuck in the gauze.

“You think you can shower by yourself?” He asked, throwing the soiled gauze in the trash can and looking at the wound to make sure there was no more infection.

You blushed, but nodded your head. “I think I can handle it. I’ll yell if I need some help,” you looked up at him, “and if I do need help, I only want you to come. I didn’t like the way Dean was ogling me the other day.”

“You and me both. He knows you’re nineteen now and was completely disgusted with his behavior. He thought you were a lot older than that. I did, too. But,” he pointed to the plate of food, “eat up and take a shower, then meet us in the living room. I grabbed your bag from your car, it’s next to the dresser.”

“Thanks, Sam.” You grabbed his arm before he walked away and wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him close in a hug, being mindful of your stomach.

He rubbed his hand up and down your back and smiled down at you. “You’re welcome. Now go take a shower, you smell.”

You playfully pushed him away and giggled. He smiled back at you and shut the door behind himself. You quickly ate, showered, and changed into a pair of baggy flannel pants and a faded band t-shirt. You felt so much better than you have in the past week, and once you replaced the bandage on your stomach, you opened the door to the bedroom and walked out into the living room to meet the Winchesters.

You were about to announce your presence when your eyes landed on the gorgeous and full pine tree planted smack in the middle of the small living room. There was a few boxes at the base of the tree which seemed to hold silver bullets hanging from strings, several hex bags, and ninja stars that you assumed would be acting as ornaments.

“Surprise! Merry Christmas!” You jumped a little as Dean and Sam both stepped out from behind the counter of the kitchen, a cup of eggnog in each of their hands.

You smiled and laughed, ignoring the pain in your stomach, as you took in the sight of the two Winchesters before you. Sam had a pair of antlers on his head while Dean was sporting a bright red Santa hat. The former handed you a cup of eggnog and you couldn’t help but tear up.

“Guys,” your voice broke as tears fell from your eyes, “you didn’t have to do this! I… I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything, sweetheart,” Dean grinned. “Just drink, be merry, and don’t be the first one to pass out when we’re decorating this bad boy.” Dean nudged his elbow toward the pine tree.

Sam stepped forward. “We know you weren’t going to make it home, so I, we, wanted to do something for you. You told me about your Christmas tradition with your family and we decided to improvise while you were asleep. Dean and I never had a traditional Christmas when we were growing up and we were hoping you would share your tradition with us.”

“Of course!” You took a sip of eggnog and groaned at the delicious burn of the extra kick of rum that was in it. “Just like Uncle Mark’s,” you nodded your approval. “Let’s get started.”

You were correct in your assumption as to what the substitute ornaments were. There were dozens of silver bullets dangling from strings, a few hex bags, and some shiny ninja stars. You each took turns decorating the tree over the next few hours. The eggnog was flowing pretty steadily and to your surprise, Sam was the first one to trip and fall over in a fit of giggles, effectively losing the challenge.

Dean patted his brother on the back once he helped him to his feet and replaced the antlers on his head with the Santa hat. Sam let out a booming “Ho, ho, ho” before breaking into a fit of laughter again. Dean glanced at the top of the tree and, after a moment of what you assumed to be deep thought, he grinned a devilish smirk. He quickly sprinted out of the cabin to his car.

He returned a few minutes later with something behind his back. He quickly walked over to the tree and wiggled the item he retrieved from his car onto the top branch of the tree. He adjusted it a few more times to make sure it was going to stay and then stepped back, admiring his makeshift star.

“Is that a grenade launcher?” You asked, trying and failing to suppress your laughter.

“You bet your ass it is. One day I’ll be able to use her… but until now, I think she makes a wonderful star.” He sighed happily. “She’s a star in my heart, that’s for sure.”

You looked to Sam who just shrugged and smiled before he finished off his cup of eggnog. He pulled you against his side and wrapped an arm around your shoulder. He pressed a kiss to the hair on the side of your head and sighed.

“Thank you for letting us in on your family tradition,” he said softly. “It might not be perfect, but we wanted to make you feel as close to home as we could.”

You looked up at him and stood on your tiptoes, leaning in and kissing him on his cheek, making him blush. “I loved it, Sam. Thank you for saving me and saving my Christmas.”

Sam nodded in acknowledgement and squeezed his arm around you as you watched the silver bullets shimmer in the light of the fire. You may have missed Christmas with your family, but who says you can’t enjoy some new traditions along the way?