A Very Supernatural Christmas. // Dean //

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Sam Winchester
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A Very Supernatural Christmas. // Dean // Feb 28, 2015 14:51:50 GMT -5

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Post by Sam Winchester on Feb 28, 2015 14:51:50 GMT -5

ooc; SEASON THREE. EPISODE EIGHT.

Three days before Christmas in Yipsilanti Michigan , a man was taken from his home in the middle of the night. His locked home. So naturally the boys took a drive to check this out. Sam let Dean and the man's wife chat outside while he looked around. After finishing his sweep of the Walsh's house, he joined Dean and Mrs. Walsh outside in time to hear Dean asking if anyone else had a key to the house which might explain the no forced entry phenomenon...well to someone who wasn't familiar with the supernatural. "My parents" Mrs. Walsh answered which wasn't all that helpful. Especially when she added, "but they live in Florida." Sam stepped up beside Dean, giving him a subtle nod before addressing Mrs. Walsh. "Thanks for letting me have a look around, Mrs. Walsh. I think we, uh, got just about everything we need. We’re all set." She gave a shaky smile, seeming unable to say anything else in her grief, but as the boys headed down the steps, she called out to them. "Agents..." They stopped and turned to face her again expectantly. "The police said my husband might have been kidnapped." "Could be" Dean replied evasively. Mrs. Walsh wrung out her hands. "Then why haven’t the kidnappers called? O-or – or demanded a ransom? It’s three days till Christmas. What am I supposed to tell our daughter?" Sam smiled sympathetically. There wasn't really anything to say other than, "We're very sorry."

As they walked away for a second time, without being called back this time, Dean muttered in an undertone, "Find anything?" Sam nodded affirmatively. "Stocking, mistletoe…" He reached into his pocket and came up with the only thing of interest he'd located. "...this." He dropped it into Dean's cupped, outstretched palm and watched his older brother squint to get a closer look at it. "A tooth? Where was this?" "The chimney" Sam replied, nodding when Dean gave him a curious frown to confirm he'd heard it right. "The chimney" Dean repeated, tossing the tooth back to Sam. "No way a grown man fits up a chimney. It’s too narrow." "No way he fits up in one piece" Sam corrected, pocketing the tooth. Dean shrugged lightly in agreement. "Alright, so, if dad went up the chimney"- Sam nodded grimly.

"We need to find out what dragged him up there."

Dean Winchester
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Our lives are weird, man.

Posts: 2,165

A Very Supernatural Christmas. // Dean // Feb 28, 2015 16:04:21 GMT -5

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Post by Dean Winchester on Feb 28, 2015 16:04:21 GMT -5

Dean dropped Sam off at the motel to do some research and he did a little research of his own with the locals. It was much more his tempo to speak with people to get information, rather than trying to fish it out of a computer. That was definitely more Sam. After about an hour of this, he returned to the motel. Sam was sitting at the kitchen table, his laptop open in front of him, a few printed sheets of paper scattered around him. "So, was I right" Dean asked with a teasing grin as he shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it over the back of one chair. "Is it the serial-killing chimney sweep?" Sam rolled his eyes. "Yep. It's, uh, it’s actually Dick Van Dyke." The name meant absolutely nothing to him though it clearly did to Sam. Dean tilted his head to one side. "Who?" "Mary Poppins" Sam elaborated, searching Dean's face for an ounce of recognition. "Nevermind" he added when Dean's face remained blank. He honestly had no idea what Sam was talking about. Waving this aside, he ponied up the information he'd gathered downtown. "Well, it turns out that Walsh is the second guy in town grabbed out of his house this month."

Sam lifted an eyebrow. "Oh yeah?" "Yeah." "Other guy get dragged up the chimney too" Sam asked a bit skeptically. Dean shrugged, taking a seat at the table across from his brother. "Don’t know. Witnesses just said they heard a thump on the roof." He inclined his head at the computer. "So, what the hell do you think we're dealing with?" "Well um...I actually have a theory" Sam hedged. Dean was impressed at the speed Sam had reached a conclusion with. "Yeah?" Sam was still hesitating. "It's gonna sound crazy." Dean rolled his eyes. "What could you possibly say that sounds crazy to me?" These days he barely batted an eyelash at anything. He'd pretty much seen and heard it all. Sam grinned ruefully. "Evil Santa." Except that. He'd seen and heard everything except that. He stared.

"Yeah. That's crazy."

We hunt monsters....you know who does that? Crazy people!

Sam Winchester
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A Very Supernatural Christmas. // Dean // Feb 28, 2015 18:02:09 GMT -5

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Post by Sam Winchester on Feb 28, 2015 18:02:09 GMT -5

Sam shrugged helplessly. "I mean, I’m just saying that there’s some version of the anti-Claus in every culture." He began scrolling through the list on his computer. "You got Belsnickel, Krampus, Black Peter. Whatever you want to call it, there’s all sorts of lore." Dean rose from his chair to move around and peer over Sam's shoulder. "Saying what exactly?" "That back in the day, Santa’s brother went rogue and now he shows up around Christmas time, but instead of bringing presents, he punishes the wicked" Sam explained, glancing over his shoulder at Dean who was not looking sold on this whole idea. "By hauling their asses up the chimney?" Sam shrugged. "For starters." "So, this is your theory, huh?" Dean glanced from the computer screen to Sam doubtfully. "Santa’s shady brother?" Sam had never been too confident in his theory and Dean's snide remarks weren't really helping. "Well, ah – I’m just saying, that’s what the lore says" he muttered. "Santa doesn't have a brother" Dean commented in a "duh" tone. "There is no Santa." Sam rolled his eyes. "I know Dean. You're the one who told me that in the first place, remember?" He certainly did. That had been a Christmas Eve of far more than just Santa confessionals. Dean glanced away, a hint of guilt in his eyes, and Sam knew he was probably remembering that year as well. Sighing heavily, Sam leaned back in his chair. "You know what, I could be wrong. I..." He closed his laptop and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I gotta be wrong."

"Maybe, maybe not." Dean was all of a sudden warming up to the idea. Sam wrinkled his brow. "What?" Dean moved around from behind Sam, heading for where he'd left his jacket. "I did a little digging. Turns out both victims visited the same place before they got snatched." As Dean pulled on his jacket, Sam reached for his own jacket curiously. "Where?"
~~~

The boys stood at the entrance to a rundown theme-park with a decrepit wooden sign reading "Santa's Village" over their heads. Dean shrugged, considering the place. "It does kind of lend credence to the theory, don’t it?" "Yeah, but anti-Claus?" Sam wrinkled his nose. "Couldn’t be..." It was like all of a sudden he and Dean had flipped sides of the debate. Dean chuckled. "It's a Christmas miracle." Suddenly something registered within his eyes and he was nudging Sam on the arm. "Hey, speaking of which. We should have one this year." Sam was still looking around at the scarce amount of visitors and falling apart buildings so Dean's words sort of just bounced off of him. "Have one what" he asked distractedly. "A Christmas" Dean clarified. "No thanks" Sam scoffed, moving off deeper into the park. Dean followed, not giving up. "No, we’ll get a tree, a little Boston market, just like when we were little." "Dean, those weren’t exactly Hallmark memories for me, you know" Sam pointed out a little bitterly. "What are you talking about? We had some great Christmases" Dean protested, causing Sam to stop walking and turn to face him head-on with an incredulous, "Whose childhood are you talking about?" "Oh come on Sam" Dean wheedled. Sam refused to relent. "No. Just...no." He'd never been such a big fan of Christmas to begin with and now...knowing that it was the last one he'd ever spend with his brother...celebrating was the last thing he wanted to do. Dean looked surprised at the high amount of intensity in Sam's voice. "Alright." He paused and then added "Grinch", half teasingly and half seriously, before sauntering off. Sam was about to follow when his eyes landed on a clay reindeer staring up at him. He was mentally transported back to the Christmas Eve of 1991 when everything had changed. For him anyway.
~~~

The Year Without A Santa Claus was just finishing up on television. Santa and his reindeer were flying across the screen. 8 year old Sam sat on the couch, only half watching it. He was focused on wrapping a present from Bobby to John in a few layers of newsprint. Almost 13 year old Dean had been peering out the motel room window at the heavy flakes of snow falling, but let the curtain drop now and turned to face his brother. "What's that?" "Present for Dad" Sam explained proudly, applying some tape. Dean snorted. "Yeah right. Where'd you get the money? Steal it?" Sam looked mortally offended. "No!" He would never steal money. "Uncle Bobby gave it to me. Said it was real special." Looking mildly interested, Dean moved closer to the couch. "So what is it?" "A pony" Sam returned sarcastically. Dean snorted, hoping over the back of the couch and landing in a cross-legged position. "Very funny." He scooped up a cars magazine and opened it to a page in the middle. Sam finished wrapping the gift, his fingers pressing down hard on the final strip of tape. "Dad's gonna be here, right" he asked quietly. Dean nodded without looking up from the magazine. "He'll be here." "It's Christmas" Sam added pointedly. Dean lowered the magazine with a heavy sigh. "He knows. And he'll be here. Promise." Sam tilted his head to the side. "Where is he anyway?" Dean raised the magazine again. "On business." "What kind of business" Sam prodded annoyingly. Dean refused to come out from behind the magazine again. "You know that already. He sells stuff." "What kind of stuff?" "Stuff" Dean sighed irritably. "No one ever tells me anything" Sam complained. "Then quit asking." Fed up, Dean rose from the couch and took his magazine over to his bed where he shoved some fast food wrappers out of the way before sinking down and resuming his reading.

"Is Dad a spy" Sam wanted to know, kneeling on the couch and looking over its back at Dean. Dean nodded with a straight face. "Mm-hmm. He’s James Bond." "Why do we move around so much" Sam nagged, asking one of his favorite questions that never seemed to get answered properly. And right on cue, Dean deadpanned, "’Cause everywhere we go, they get sick of your face." Sam stood, moving around the couch. "I'm old enough Dean. You can tell me the truth" he insisted. "You don't want to know the truth" Dean insisted right back forcefully. "Trust me." Sam hesitated. "Is that...is that why we never talk about...Mom?" The reaction was instantaneous. Dean slammed the magazine closed, tossed it aside, and stood up angrily. "Shut up! Don't you ever talk about Mom! Ever!" He grabbed his jacket and stalked towards the door. "Wait" Sam called anxiously. "Where are you going?" "Out!" The sound of the slamming door echoed through the room.
~~~

"You’d think with the 10 bucks it costs to get into this place, Santa could scrounge up a little snow." "What?" Still lost in memories, Sam blinked, focusing on his surroundings once again. Dean had made a full circle of the joint and was now back to Sam's side. Dean shook his head, waving off his prior comment. "Nothing. What are we looking for, again?" "Um..." Sam thought back to the information from his computer. "The lore says that the anti-Claus will walk with a limp and smell like sweets." Dean smiled dryly. "Great, so we're looking for a pimp Santa." He paused. "Why the sweets?" Sam considered this, coming to an answer pretty quickly. "Think about it, Dean. If you smell like candy, the kids will come closer, you know?" Dean made a face. "That's creepy." Sam chuckled in agreement as a young woman dressed up like an Elf approached them. "Welcome to Santa’s court. Can I escort your child to Santa?" She gestured over one shoulder at the chair where an old man in a Santa costume was sitting, a boy on his lap, reciting what he wanted for Christmas. "Uh..." Sam tried to think of something to say but Dean stepped in first. "No. No. Uh, but actually my brother here..." Sam jumped slightly as Dean suddenly smacked him on the shoulder with a grin. "...it's been a lifelong dream of his." The Elf gave them, especially Sam, a weird look. "Sorry...no kids over 12..." "He's just kidding" Sam assured her, shooting Dean a look. "We actually only came here to watch." The Elf's weird look turned quickly disturbed. "Ew." She stalked away haughtily, leaving Sam to realize how his words could have been misinterpreted. He shouted after her retreating back, "I-I didn’t mean that we came here to w— Oh come o— Y—" Unable to finish a sentence with the Elf still in ear shot, he turned to his brother who was grinning. "Thanks a lot, Dean. Thanks for that." Dean shrugged innocently.

They were distracted by the old Santa staggering from his chair, limping towards them, on his way to take a break from Santa-ing, seeing as how there were no more kids in line. "Are you seeing this" Dean whispered. "Lots of people walk with limps" Sam pointed out reasonably but he stared after the Santa thoughtfully. "Tell me you didn’t smell that" Dean insisted, still in a low voice. "That was candy, man." "That was Ripple" Sam shot back instinctively but even as he said the words, the lingering scent of whatever Santa had been doused with hit his nose again.

"I think."

Last Edit: Feb 28, 2015 18:33:30 GMT -5 by Sam Winchester

Dean Winchester
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Our lives are weird, man.

Posts: 2,165

A Very Supernatural Christmas. // Dean // Feb 28, 2015 22:28:56 GMT -5

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Post by Dean Winchester on Feb 28, 2015 22:28:56 GMT -5

Dean could read the uncertainty all over Sam's face. "Maybe" he agreed. "But are we willing to take that chance?"
~~~

No. No they were not. And so at about quarter past one in the morning, they were sitting in the Impala outside of "Santa's" trailer half a mile down the road from the theme-park. "What time is it" Dean yawned in exhaustion. "Same as the last time you asked" replied Sam in an equally weary tone before holding up their shared thermos of coffee. "Here. Caffeinate." Dean accepted the thermos and tilted it to pour some of the steamy beverage into its cap like they'd been doing for the past three hours, only to find out they'd used it all up. "Wonderful." He tossed the empty thermos behind him into the backseat, shaking his head with a scoff. "Hey Sam" he added after another minute of silence. "Why are you the boy who hates Christmas?" He may have been asking it jokingly but he seriously wanted to know. This was his last year on earth and he wanted to make the most of it. He wanted to celebrate Christmas with a bang. But Sam's attitude was making that rather difficult. Sam exhaled slowly. "Dean..." "I mean, I admit it, you know, we had a few bumpy holidays when we were kids" Dean allowed graciously. "Bumpy" Sam echoed in disbelief. Dean ignored this. "That was then. We’ll do it right this year" he promised.

Sam looked uncomfortable. "Look, Dean...if you want to have Christmas, knock yourself out. Just don’t involve me." "Oh, yeah, that’d be great. Me and myself making cranberry molds" Dean wisecracked. Sam looked out his window. Dean stared straight ahead through the windshield. The lull in the conversation was broken a few minutes later by Dean straightening in his seat, squinting at the trailer where "Santa" had appeared at the window and drawn the curtains closed. "What’s up with Saint Nicotine?" Sam looked too. Then they looked at each other. Distantly, a woman's voice shouted "Oh My God", and they were out of the car in a flash.

As they approached the trailer door with their guns drawn, Sam chuckled. Dean glanced over one shoulder at him, puzzled. "What?" Sam shrugged. "Nothing. It’s just that, uh… well, you know, Mr. Gung Ho Christmas might have to blow away Santa." Dean rolled his eyes before twisting the doorknob hard and pushing open the door, depositing him and Sam into the trailer. "Santa" was sitting in his underwear, holding a beer in one hand and a bong in the other, watching some kind of porn film, which explained the "oh my god" they'd heard. "What the hell is going on here" he slurred, staggering to his feet. The boys quickly tucked their guns out of sight, glancing at each other in panic. They clearly had the wrong guy. After a few seconds, Dean cleared his throat and began singing off-key. "Silent Night....Holy Night...." He gestured for Sam to join him. "All is well" they sang together, Santa joining in with a cheerily drunk smile. "All is bright." "Round and round..." Dean lifted his shoulders at Sam, having no idea what words came next. "The table" Sam improvised, taking Dean's shoulder and pulling him backwards out of the trailer.
~~~

The next morning, they learned that while they'd been staking out the wrong guy, the right guy, whoever that may be, had taken someone else. "So, that’s how your son described the attack? “Santa took daddy up the chimney”?" Dean addressed the latest victim's wife who nodded with a watery smile. "That's what he said, yes." "And where were you" he wanted to know next. "I was sleeping...and then Al was being dragged out of bed screaming..." She sniffed. Sam joined the conversation. "Did you see the attacker?" "No...it was dark...he hit me...knocked me out..." She gestured to the bruise on her right eye, sniffing again. "I'm sorry, I know this is hard" Dean apologized sincerely. Sam stepped in before Dean could continue with the interview. "Yeah… um, Mrs. Caldwell, where, where did you get that wreath above the fireplace?" Both Mrs. Caldwell and Dean stared at him. He shrugged, embarrassed. "Just...curious."
~~~

"Wreaths, huh? Sure you didn’t want to ask her about her shoes" Dean teased as they headed for the Impala. "I saw some nice handbags in the foyer." "We've seen that wreath before Dean" Sam insisted patiently. Dean frowned, having no recollection of this whatsoever. "Where?" "The Walshes. Yesterday." "I know" Dean lied flippantly.

"I was just testing you."

Last Edit: Mar 8, 2015 10:37:46 GMT -5 by Dean Winchester

We hunt monsters....you know who does that? Crazy people!

Sam Winchester
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A Very Supernatural Christmas. // Dean // Mar 1, 2015 21:55:12 GMT -5

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Post by Sam Winchester on Mar 1, 2015 21:55:12 GMT -5

Once back at the motel, Sam called Bobby, asking for help. And Bobby came through almost immediately. Sam listened intently to the wealth of information Bobby was spewing. "Yeah, all right. Well, keep looking, would you? Thanks, Bobby." Sam finished the conversation and hung up before tossing his phone down onto the table and taking a seat there himself. "Well… we’re not dealing with the anti-Claus." Dean was sitting with his head propped up by pillows on his bed, arms crossed lazily. "What'd Bobby say?" Sam leaned back in his chair, grinning sheepishly. "Uh...that we're morons. He also said that it was probably meadowsweet in those wreaths." "Wow! Amazing" Dean chirped with phony enthusiasm before adding seriously, "what the hell is meadowsweet?" Sam opened his laptop and began punching keys rapidly. "It’s pretty rare and it’s probably the most powerful plant in pagan lore." "Pagan lore" Dean repeated, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, standing and crossing to peer over Sam's shoulder at the images of meadowsweet he'd brought up. Sam nodded, explaining further. "Yeah. See, they used meadowsweet for human sacrifices. It was kind of like a… Chum for their gods. Gods were drawn to it and they’d stop by and snack on whatever was the nearest human."

Dean moved around from behind Sam so that he was facing him, leaning against the opposite end of the table and crossing his arms. "Why would somebody be using that for Christmas wreaths?" Sam shrugged plaintively. "It's not as crazy as it sounds, Dean. I mean, pretty much every Christmas tradition is pagan." "Christmas is Jesus' birthday" Dean commented to which Sam returned knowingly with, "No, Jesus’s birthday was probably in the fall. It was actually the winter solstice festival that was co-opted by the Church and renamed “Christmas”. But I mean, the Yule log, the tree, even Santa’s red suit – that’s all remnants of pagan worship." Dean stared. "How do you know that? What are you gonna tell me next? The Easter bunny’s Jewish?" Sam said nothing, waiting out the sarcastic moment until Dean followed it up with a serious question. "So you think we're dealing with a pagan god then?" Sam pulled up a new page on his laptop, nodding. "Yeah, probably Hold Nickar, God of the winter solstice." "And all these Martha Stewart wannabes, buying these fancy wreaths…" Dean prompted curiously. "Yeah" Sam chuckled dryly. "It’s pretty much like putting a neon sign on your front door saying “Come kill us”."

Dean nodded, pushing off of the table and beginning to wander aimlessly around the room. "Great." Sam returned his focus to the computer, scanning an article about Hold Nickar. "Huh...When you sacrifice to Hold Nickar, guess what he gives you in return." "Lap dances hopefully" Dean deadpanned. "Mild weather." Dean lifted a corner of the window's curtain to peer outside. "So kind of like no snow in the middle of December in the middle of Michigan" he surmised. Sam nodded once. "Exactly." Dean let the curtain drop. "Do we know how to kill it yet?" Sam shook his head, again once. "No, Bobby's working on that right now. And we've got to figure out where they’re selling those wreaths." Dean lifted a curious eyebrow. "You think they’re selling them on purpose? Feeding the victims to this thing?" Sam exhaled deeply.

"Let's find out."

Dean Winchester
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Our lives are weird, man.

Posts: 2,165

A Very Supernatural Christmas. // Dean // Mar 1, 2015 22:26:57 GMT -5

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Post by Dean Winchester on Mar 1, 2015 22:26:57 GMT -5

It wasn't hard to locate the shop that both the Caldwells and Walshes had purchased their meadowsweet wreaths from. "Deck the Halls" was playing in the background as they entered and approached the counter. A portly man in a red vest smiled cheerfully at them. "Help you, boys?" Dean was ready to go. "Uh, hope so. See, we were playing Jenga over at the Walshes’ the other night, and, uh… well, he hasn’t shut up since about this Christmas wreath, and...I don’t know, you tell him." He smiled innocently at Sam who was glaring daggers at him. "Sure" he finally agreed, turning to face the shopkeeper with his best attempts at a smile. "It was yummy." Dean looked down to hide his smile. "I sell a lot of wreaths, guys" the shopkeeper pointed out when nothing else was said. "Right, right, but – but you see, this one would have been really special" Sam elaborated. "It had, uh, it had, uh, green leaves, um, white buds on it. It might have been made of, uh… meadowsweet?" The shopkeeper stared at him. "Well. Aren't you a fussy one." "He is" Dean agreed, laughing. Sam squinted at him in annoyance. Dean tried to look apologetic.

"Anyway, I know the one you’re talking about and I’m all out" the shopkeeper informed them. Dean frowned. "Huh. Seems like this meadowsweet stuff’s pretty rare and expensive. Why make wreaths out of it?" The shopkeeper shrugged. "Beats me. I didn't make them." "Then who did?" "Madge Carrigan, a local lady. She said the wreaths were so special, she gave them to me for free." The boys exchanged a look. "She didn't charge you anything" Sam clarified. The shopkeeper beamed. "Nope." "Did you sell them for free" Dean wanted to know. "Hell no. It’s Christmas" the shopkeeper laughed. "People pay a buttload for this crap." Dean grinned wryly.

"That's the spirit."

We hunt monsters....you know who does that? Crazy people!

Sam Winchester
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A Very Supernatural Christmas. // Dean // Mar 2, 2015 9:40:30 GMT -5

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Post by Sam Winchester on Mar 2, 2015 9:40:30 GMT -5

"How much do you think a meadowsweet wreath would cost" Dean asked, flipping on the light as they wandered back into their motel room. Sam shrugged, considering it. "A couple hundred dollars, at least." Dean shrugged out of his jacket, draping it over the back of one of the kitchen table chairs. "And this lady’s giving them away for free? What do you think about that?" "Well, sounds pretty suspicious" Sam agreed wholeheartedly, taking a seat on the edge of his bed. Dean mirrored him, taking a seat on the edge of his own bed with a fond smile. "Hey, remember that wreath Dad brought home that one year?" Sam raised an eyebrow. "You mean the one he stole from, like, a liquor store?" Dean beamed. "Yeah, it was a bunch of empty beer cans. That thing was great. I bet if I looked around hard enough, I could probably find one just like it" he added, scratching absently at the back of his neck. Sam gave his head a bemused shake. It was unlike Dean to be so persistent about something this unimportant...especially a holiday something. "All right. Dude…What’s going on with you?" Dean blinked. "What?" Sam frowned curiously. "I mean, since when are you Bing Crosby all of a sudden? Why do you want Christmas so bad?"

Dean opened his mouth, thought better of whatever he was going to say, and then turned the tables on Sam, firing a question back at him. "Why are you so against it? I mean, were your childhood memories that traumatic?" "No, that has nothing to do with it" Sam insisted. And it was the truth. While their Christmases hadn't been perfect or ideal in any way, there had certainly been a couple memorable ones...in a good way. Even the one he'd been reminiscing about earlier hadn't been too horrible in the end. But he just couldn't face a big celebration five months before his brother's impending death. Dean stared hard at him. "Then what?" Sam shrugged helplessly. "I-I mean, I-I just… I don’t get it. You haven’t talked about Christmas in years." Dean looked at the floor, the volume of his voice dropping slightly. "Well, yeah. This is my last year." Sam felt the anxious, pained squeeze of his heart he'd become used to over the past several months. So Dean was conscious of it too. Not that he had any reason not to be, but sometimes Sam did wonder, with the way he spoke and acted, if he forgot he was going to hell at the end of the year. "I know" he finally sighed, his shoulders slumping. "That's why I can't."

Dean cleared his throat, looking up finally. "What do you mean?" "I mean I can’t just sit around, drinking eggnog, pretending everything’s okay, when I know next Christmas you’ll be dead." Locking eyes with Dean, Sam's voice broke, his own eyes prickling with unshed tears.

"I just can't."

Dean Winchester
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Our lives are weird, man.

Posts: 2,165

A Very Supernatural Christmas. // Dean // Mar 8, 2015 10:15:17 GMT -5

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Post by Dean Winchester on Mar 8, 2015 10:15:17 GMT -5

The snow was still falling steadily an hour later as almost 13 year old Dean returned to the motel room with a brown paper bag in his arms. 8 year old Sam was reading a comic book on the couch that he lowered when the door opened. "Thought you went out." "Yeah, to get you dinner" Dean replied, reaching into the bag, pulling out a packaged sandwich and tossing it to Sam, who caught it with one hand. "Don't forget your vegetables" Dean added with a half-smile as he tossed a bag of Funyuns next. Sam caught those as well and placed both items next to him on the couch, watching as Dean moved over to his bed and sat down, pulling out a can of coke for himself. After a minute, Sam stood and crossed to take a seat on his own bed, facing Dean. "I know why you keep a gun under your pillow" he announced. Dean's coke-free hand shot out to lift his pillow by the corner to make sure his gun was still there. "No you don't" he countered irritably. "And stay out of my stuff." "And I know why we lay salt down everywhere we go" Sam continued. Dean's jaw tightened. "No you don't. Shut up!"

Sam reached behind him, pulling something out from under his mattress and dropping it with a thud between them on the nightstand. Dean's eyes widened at the sight of their father's journal lying there. He was on his feet in a nanosecond. "Where’d you get that? That’s Dad’s! He’s gonna kick your ass for reading that!" Sam didn't back down. "Are monsters real?" "What? You’re crazy" Dean scoffed instantly. Sam stared back at him intensely. "Tell me" he insisted. Dean looked away, hesitating. He didn't want to disobey their father and let Sammy in on all this supernatural stuff, but he hated lying to his little brother. And the older he got, the more questions he asked...the harder it got to keep doing it. Finally, he sighed heavily and returned his eyes to Sam's. "I swear...if you ever tell Dad I told you any of this...I will end you." Sam nodded eagerly. "Promise." Dean set his untouched coke down on the nightstand and sank back onto his bed. "Well, the first thing you have to know is we have the coolest dad in the world" he enthused proudly. "He’s a superhero." Sam raised an eyebrow. "He is?" Dean nodded. "Yeah. Monsters ARE real. Dad fights them. He’s fighting them right now." "But Dad said the monsters under my bed weren’t real" Sam protested, looking concerned. Dean shook his head with a minor chuckle. "That’s ’cause he had already checked under there" he assured Sam. "But yeah, they’re real. Almost everything’s real." Sam hung his head for a minute, thinking this over, and then lifted it hopefully. "Is Santa real?" Dean shook his head with another smile. "No."

Sam hung his head again and this time when he lifted it, his concern had elevated to alarm. "If monsters are real, then they could get us. They could get me." "Dad's not going to let them get you" Dean promised. "But what if they get him" Sam countered. Dean shook his head firmly. "They aren’t gonna get Dad. Dad’s, like, the best." "I read in Dad’s book that they...they got Mom." Sam's voice was shaky. Dean exhaled. "It's complicated Sam" he finally said, unable to come up with anything else. "If they got Mom, they can get Dad ,and if they get Dad, they can get us" Sam panicked. Dean quickly got up off of his bed and moved to sit next to Sam. "It's not like that, ok" he tried to assure him. "Dad’s fine. We’re fine. Trust me." Sam looked away but not before Dean noticed the sparkly nature of his eyes that meant he was on the verge of crying. Dean put a hand on Sam's shoulder. "You ok?" "Yeah" came Sam's choked up voice, still not looking at Dean. "Hey, Dad’s gonna be here for Christmas" Dean promised, trying hard to sound confident of this fact. "Just like he always is." Sam shrugged Dean's hand from his shoulder, twisting farther away. "I just want to go to sleep, okay?" He crawled beneath the covers, facing the far wall. "Yeah ok" Dean agreed quietly, staying where he was on the edge of Sam's bed. "It’ll all be better when you wake up" he added, feeling his heart break as Sam let out his first audible sob, his shoulders shaking beneath the thin blankets. "You'll see" Dean insisted in an even quieter voice.

"Promise."

We hunt monsters....you know who does that? Crazy people!

Sam Winchester
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A Very Supernatural Christmas. // Dean // Mar 15, 2015 9:55:42 GMT -5

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Post by Sam Winchester on Mar 15, 2015 9:55:42 GMT -5

There was only one Carrigan family listed in the local phone book so that's where the boys set off for. It was a large white house with Christmas decorations covering nearly the entirety of its front lawn. "So this is where Mrs. Wreath lives, huh?" Dean looked around, taking it all in, his lips twitching against a smirk. "Can’t you just feel the evil pagan vibe?" Sam half-smiled as they made their way up the front steps. It sure didn't look all that threatening, he had to give Dean that. Nor did the woman who opened the door and smiled politely at them. "Yes?" Sam eyed her curiously while Dean put on a phony polite smile of his own and asked, "Please tell me you’re the Madge Carrigan who makes the meadowsweet wreaths" in a convincingly hopeful voice. "Why yes I am" she responded proudly. Dean turned to Sam with a wide smile. "Ha, bingo!" Sam nodded with a great deal of convincing enthusiasm. "Yeah? Uh, well, we were just admiring your wreaths in Mr. Sylar’s place the other day." Madge nodded cheerfully. "You were? Well, isn't that meadowsweet just the finest-smelling thing you ever smelled?" Sam nodded in agreement vividly. "It is, it sure is." His face fell dramatically. "But the problem is, is that all you wreaths had sold out before we got the chance to buy one." Madge frowned in dismay. "Oh fudge" she exclaimed. "You wouldn’t have another one that we could buy from you, would you" Dean asked hopefully. "Oh, no, I’m afraid those were the only ones I had for this season" Madge informed them. Sam frowned in disappointment. "Aww..." He gave Dean a subtle look and Dean picked up on it right away, throwing out curiously, "Tell me something, why did you decide to make them out of meadowsweet?" Sam glanced past her into the house as discreetly as possible, taking in all the Christmas decorations, trying to notice anything amiss. "Why, the smell, of course" Madge enthused as a man in an old fashioned cardigan, smoking a pipe came down the stairs inside the house to stand beside Madge who was still going on about the meadowsweet. "I don’t think I’ve ever smelled anything finer." "Yeah...you mentioned that" Sam returned with a strained smile.

"What's going on honey" Mr. Carrigan asked his wife cheerfully. "Well, just some nice boys asking about my wreaths, dear" Madge explained, beaming. "Oh, the wreaths are fine. Fine wreaths. Care for some peanut brittle?" He offered them a small tin jar full of it. Dean began to reach for it but Sam slapped his arm down with another strained smile. "We're ok."
~~~

An hour later, the boys were back in their motel room. Bobby had called and delivered the news that sharpened evergreen stakes would kill this particular pagan god so Dean was sitting on the edge of his bed, using a knife to sharpen the last of their four stakes and Sam was looking up information on his computer at the kitchen table. After finding what he was looking for Sam leaned back in his chair and clapped his hands together. "I knew it! Something was way off with those two." Dean stripped another piece of bark from the tip of the stake in his hand, watching it fall to the floor to join the growing pile. "What'd you find?" "The Carrigans lived in Seattle, last year, where two abductions took place right around Christmas" Sam explained. "They just moved here in January. And all that Christmas crap in their house – that wasn’t boughs of holly. It was vervain and mint." "Pagan stuff" Dean guessed, studying the stake in his hand thoughtfully. "Serious pagan stuff" Sam confirmed. Dean lowered the stake. "So what, Ozzie and Harriet are keeping a pagan god hidden underneath their plastic-covered couch?" "I don't know" Sam shrugged.

"All I know is we've got to check them out."

Dean Winchester
Hunter.

Our lives are weird, man.

Posts: 2,165

A Very Supernatural Christmas. // Dean // Mar 15, 2015 11:41:36 GMT -5

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Post by Dean Winchester on Mar 15, 2015 11:41:36 GMT -5

After packing a duffel bag with the four perfectly sharpened evergreen stakes, and armed with their trusty flashlights, the Winchesters set back out for the Carrigan household. It only took a few seconds to pick the lock, allowing them entrance. Dean directed his light at the couch as they passed it. "See" he whispered triumphantly, running two fingers over its cover. "Plastic." Sam also touched the plastic as Dean shook his head disapprovingly before moving off deeper into the house. After a few more minutes of prowling, Sam's voice caught his attention. "Hey Dean." Dean followed Sam's voice, finding him by a locked door in the back corner of the kitchen. They swapped a look, then nodded firmly. Dean slid back the deadbolt, twisted the handle, and pulled open the door, then followed Sam down the rickety flight of stairs into the basement.

At the bottom of the stairs, they separated, each going their own way to check the place out. A bowl of bloody bones fell in the beam of Dean's flashlight. He made a face and moved on. A pair of blood-soaked boots and just as blood-soaked jacket lay in a heap on the ground at his feet. Lowering the duffel bag from his shoulder to the ground, Dean knelt to inspect the items.

A sudden shout from across the room made him look up in panic. Madge was pinning Sam to the far wall by his throat, slowly suffocating him. "Sam!" Dean straightened, making a bee-line for his brother. But he didn't get there. Coming from seemingly out of nowhere, Mr. Carrigan grabbed him by the arm, spun him around and slammed him face first into the wall.

Everything went black.
~~~

"Dean? You okay?" Sam's voice reached him in sort of a fuzzy state as he blinked a few times, looking around to orient himself. His forehead was throbbing and would probably sport a nice bruise for a few days...you know, supposing he didn't die in the next few minutes. He and Sam were tied tightly to chairs next to the kitchen table, back to back. Madge and Mr. Carrigan were nowhere in sight. "Yeah" he finally grunted. "I think so." "So I guess we're dealing with Mr. and Mrs. God" Sam pointed out disdainfully. "Good to know." Dean snorted. "Yeah." Before either could say anything else, Madge and Mr. Carrigan were bustling through the kitchen door, now adorned in colorful matching Christmas sweaters. "Ooh, and here we thought you two lazybones were gonna sleep straight through all the fun stuff" Madge giggled. Dean smiled sarcastically. "And miss all this? Nah, we’re partiers." "Isn’t he a kick in the pants, honey" chortled Mr. Carrigan before his tone darkened. "You’re hunters, is what you are." Dean tugged on the rope around his wrists. "And you’re pagan gods" he returned. "So, why don't we just call it even, and go our separate ways?"

"What, so you can bring more hunters and kill us?" Mr. Carrigan laughed. "I don’t think so." He took a long tote on his pipe. "Maybe you should have thought about that before you went snacking on humans, now, huh" Sam interjected darkly. "Oh now, don’t get all wet" Mr. Carrigan insisted somewhat defensively before his wife pitched in with, "why, we used to take over a hundred tributes a year and that’s a fact." She bustled about, unfolding a napkin and placing it on Dean's lap. He raised an eyebrow. "Now what do we take" she went on, placing another napkin on Sam's lap this time. "What, two? Three?" "Hardy Boys here make five" Mr. Carrigan pointed out. Madge nodded, returning to stand next to her husband at the kitchen table with a wide smile. "Now, that’s not so bad, is it?" "Well, you say it like that – I guess you guys are the Cunninghams" Dean quipped dryly, giving his arms another futile tug. Mr. Carrigan lowered his pipe and pointed it at Dean. "You mister better show us some respect" he threatened. "Or what" Sam challenged with a wry smile. "You'll eat us?" It was a valid point. If they were going to get eaten either way, they had no incentive to be respectful in the slightest.

"Not so fast" Mr. Carrigan explained, looking at Madge who was looking as excited as...well, as a little kid on Christmas morning. "There’s rituals to be followed first." "Oh, we’re just sticklers for ritual" Madge agreed, hurrying over to a cabinet and reaching inside, looking for something. Mr. Carrigan took another tote on his pipe cheerily. "And you know what kicks off the whole shebang?" "Let me guess" Dean replied dully. "Meadowsweet." He gave another sarcastic chuckle. "Oh shucks, you’re all out of wreaths. I guess we’ll just have to cancel the sacrifice, huh?" Madge removed her hand from the cabinet, carrying two long strands of meadowsweet. "Oh, don’t be such a gloomy Gus." She wrapped a strand around each of their necks. Dean made a face, trying to struggle enough to throw the meadowsweet from his shoulders. It didn't work. Madge took a step back, clapping her hands together. "There. Ohh… Don’t they just look darling?" Mr. Carrigan smacked his lips together. "Good enough to eat." He winked. When neither boy responded to his clever word play in anyway past a glare, he shrugged and whipped out a silver knife. "All righty-roo. Step number two." He picked up a bowl in his knife-free hand and walked out of Dean's line of sight, moving towards Sam. "Don't" he heard Sam say sharply before letting out a loud gasp of pain. Dean struggled harder. "Sam? Sammy?!" Sam's gasp turned into a shout. "Leave him alone, you son of a bitch" Dean snapped furiously.

Mr. Carrigan wandered back to the table, carrying the bowl of Sam's blood under one arm and inspecting the tip of the blade. "Hear how they talk to us? To Gods?" He placed the bowl on the table and pointed the knife at Dean with narrowed eyes. "Listen, pal, back in the day, we were worshiped by millions" he went on irately. "Times have changed" Dean spat. "Tell me about it" Mr. Carrigan agreed in annoyance. "All of a sudden, this Jesus character is the hot new thing in town. Our altars are being burned down, and we’re being hunted down like common monsters." Madge began opening different spice jars and handing them to her husband who would add a pinch here or there to the bowl with Sam's blood. "But did we say a peep" she asked rhetorically. "Oh ho ho, no, no, no, we did not. Two millennium. We kept a low profile; we got jobs, a mortgage. We...what was that word, dear?" Mr. Carrigan picked up a piece of peanut brittle and tossed it into his mouth. "Assimilated." "Yeah, we assimilated. Why, we play bridge on Tuesday and Fridays." Madge took the knife and a second bowl from her husband, approaching Dean. "We're just like everyone else" she finished proudly. "You're not blending in as smooth as you think lady" Dean insisted, his eyes on the knife as it got closer. "This might pinch a bit dear" Madge informed him, ignoring his prior comment. She drew the knife across the exposed skin of his right forearm, creating a deep gash that deposited several drops of blood right into the waiting bowl. "You bitch" Dean snapped at her violently, pain shooting through his arm. "Oh, my goodness me" Madge exclaimed, her eyes widening. "Somebody owes a nickel to the swear jar." She held the bowl under Dean's bleeding arm for another few seconds. "Oh, do you know what I say when I feel like swearing?" Dean looked Madge straight in the eyes as she waved her sharp knife in his face. “Fudge.” Dean squinted at her, really not in the mood for this, panting from pain. "I'll try to remember that."

"You boys have no idea how lucky you are" Mr. Carrigan announced, picking up some kind of tool and heading for Sam. "There was a time when kids came from miles around, just to be sitting where you are." "What do you think you're doing with those" came Sam's panicked voice from behind Dean as Madge moved the bowl to under Dean's other arm, giving him a sinking sensation about what was happening next. "You fudging touch me again and I'll fudging kill you" he growled, struggling against his bindings. "Very good" Madge praised before slicing through the skin of his left forearm this time, creating an even deeper gash. Dean set his jaw and closed his eyes, groaning loudly in pain. From behind him, Sam was begging, "No. No. Don’t!" which was followed by a hoarse scream and Mr. Carrigan's enthusiastic, "Oho, we've got a winner!" Both Carrigans returned to the table with their ingredients and Mr. Carrigan plopped Sam's extracted fingernail into the mix. "What else dear" Madge asked, wrinkling her brow in concentration. Mr. Carrigan began listing things. "Well, let’s see. Uh, fingernail, blood. Oh…" He hit himself in the forehead with one palm. "Sweet Peter on a popsicle stick…I forgot the tooth." He laughed and picked up a different tool.

"Merry Christmas Sam" Dean breathed deeply over one shoulder. Sam groaned in response. Mr. Carrigan interrupted the moment by grabbing Dean's chin and forcing his head back. "Open wide… and say, 'Aaah'" he instructed. Even with Dean being uncooperative and refusing to do so willingly, Mr. Carrigan was able to insert the pliers, taking hold of one of Dean's teeth and preparing to pull. Dean closed his eyes in preparation. Ding-Dong. Dean's heart leapt in relief at the very timely manner of whoever was ringing the bell. "Someone gonna get that" he asked with the pliers still in his mouth and Mr. Carrigan's strong grip still holding his chin. The Carrigans looked at each other in annoyance. "You should get that" Dean went on in a muffled voice. Finally, Mr. Carrigan removed the pliers from Dean's mouth, sighing heavily and nodding at his wife. "Come on." Dean ran his tongue over his teeth, making a face as they exited the kitchen. They didn't know how long whoever was at the door would stall for them.

So they needed to work fast.

Last Edit: Mar 15, 2015 14:15:35 GMT -5 by Dean Winchester

We hunt monsters....you know who does that? Crazy people!

Sam Winchester
Hunter.

Posts: 958

A Very Supernatural Christmas. // Dean // Mar 15, 2015 12:03:46 GMT -5

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Post by Sam Winchester on Mar 15, 2015 12:03:46 GMT -5

Once managing to free themselves from the chairs, the boys slipped into the living room and each slammed one of the only two entranceway doors shut, pressing their backs up against them to keep the Carrigans, who were no longer at the front door but banging furiously on the closed living room doors, from following. After a few seconds, Dean came rushing up to help Sam with his door which must have meant he found a way to keep the other one shut on its own. "What do we do now" Dean shouted above the ruckus, leaning one palm flat against the door and pushing. "The evergreen stakes are in the basement!" "Well then we need more evergreen" Sam countered, pressing his back harder against the shaking door. And it was at this moment that his eyes landed upon the Carrigan's fully decorated Christmas tree in the corner of the living room. The fully decorated, evegreen Christmas tree. "Dean...I think I just found us some more." His eyes darted around the rest of the room until they'd found a large china cabinet just a few feet away from the door they were currently blocking. "Here, help me with this."

The boys used their combined strengths to move the cabinet in front of the door before hurrying over to the tree and setting to work ripping off two of its heavier branches. The door-banging had ceased. Slowly getting to their feet, armed with their makeshift evergreen stakes, the boys moved back towards the center of the living room. Dean glanced over his shoulder at Sam, shrugging, and it was then that Mr. Carrigan came running around the corner, tackling him. "Dean!" Sam took a step to help but his path was blocked by Madge who was looking forlornly at her fallen Christmas Tree. "You little thing...I loved that tree." Her face distorted into a horrifying creature-like mask for a second before returning to normal as she raised one fist and punched Sam in the face with it. After hitting the bookshelf and sending a lamp flying, Sam struggled to his feet. He and Madge held a brief staring contest before rushing each other. Sam was quicker.

He shoved the sharp end of the branch deep into her chest with a great deal of force. Her dying scream alerted Mr. Carrigan, who'd been punching Dean repeatedly in the face across the room. "MADGE" he hollered in dismay, which was enough of a distraction for Dean, beneath him, to swing the tree branch into his face, stunning him just long enough for Dean to plunge the tip of the branch into his chest vigorously. The dead pagan couple lay side by side in the middle of the floor. Sam helped Dean to his feet and they stared down at the pair together. Sam nodded in exhaustion.

"Merry Christmas."

Dean Winchester
Hunter.

Our lives are weird, man.

Posts: 2,165

A Very Supernatural Christmas. // Dean // Mar 15, 2015 13:51:24 GMT -5

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Post by Dean Winchester on Mar 15, 2015 13:51:24 GMT -5

The snow was still falling even early into Christmas morning outside the little motel room. 8 year old Sam was sleeping soundly in his bed. Almost 13 year old Dean hurried to his side and shook his shoulder gently. "Sam, wake up!" He gave the younger Winchester a chance to open his eyes before continuing excitedly, "Dad was here. Look what he brought." He gestured over one shoulder at the mini-Christmas Tree set up by the television with a few sparse lights and a few nicely wrapped presents below. Sam blinked and rubbed his eyes. "Dad was here?" Dean nodded with conviction. "Yeah. Look at this. We made a killing." Sam yawned, still not looking convinced. "Why didn't he try to wake me up?" Dean looked down quickly, then back up again, not quite able to meet Sam's eyes. "He tried to. Like a thousand times. You musta been too tired or something." Sam frowned doubtfully. "He did?" "Yeah." Dean nodded again firmly. "Did I tell you he would give us Christmas, or what?" He could see Sam's suspicions slowly starting to melt away as he looked around at their cozy little set-up. "Go on, dive in" Dean suggested with a smile.

Sam hopped out of bed and rushed around the couch to pick up two of the presents, which he settled down on the couch with. Dean followed at a slower pace. "What is it" he wanted to know as Sam unwrapped the first. Sam looked at the box in his hands, raising an eyebrow. "Sapphire Barbie??" Dean sat cross-legged on the couch next to his brother, chuckling. "Dad probably thinks you're a girl." "Shut up." Sam tossed the box onto the ground, reaching for the second present. A sparkly baton with streamers on each end fell out. There was a long silence before Sam looked from the present to Dean with a knowing expression. "Dad never showed did he?" "Yeah he did, I swear" Dean insisted quickly, but again he wasn't able to fully meet Sam's eyes. "Dean..." Sam tossed down the baton to join the Barbie and turned so he was facing Dean head-on. "Where'd you get all this stuff?" Dean hesitated another beat and then smiled ruefully. "Next house up the block. But I swear, I didn't know they were chick presents" he promised genuinely. Sam nodded and looked away. "Hey, I'm sure Dad would have been here if he could" Dean added. Sam returned his focus to Dean, speaking quietly. "If he's alive." "Don’t say that" Dean countered immediately. "Of course he’s alive. He’s Dad." Sam considered this for a minute and then reached over to the arm of the couch where his coat was lying. He pulled the newspaper-wrapped present meant for John from its pocket and held it out. "Here, take this." Dean shook his head. "No, that's for Dad." "Dad lied to me" Sam pointed out strongly, refusing to lower the offered gift. "I want you to have it." Dean eyed the present. "You sure?" "I'm sure" Sam promised, resting the gift on Dean's knee until the older Winchester finally reached out to accept it. He undid the newspaper and tape layers swiftly, a gold amulet on a black leather string falling out into one hand. Dean put it on at once, feeling his throat tightening. "Thank you Sam. I...I love it."
~~~

Dean pushed open the door to their motel room and stepped inside, caught off-guard by the multiple Christmas decorations that had appeared in his fifteen minute absence. Sam noticed him and rose to his feet excitedly. "Hey! You get the beer?" Dean tipped his head at the full brown paper bag in his arms, looking somewhat amazed at his surroundings. "Yeah. What’s all this?" Sam stepped forward to take the bag from Dean and set it on the coffee table. "What do you think it is? It’s – it’s Christmas." He let out a deep breath, looking like holding his smile in place was starting to get a little tricky. Dean continued looking around the room, taking it all in. "What made you change your mind" he finally asked. Instead of answering, Sam picked up a plastic cup of eggnog and held it out. "Here try the eggnog...let me know if it needs a little more kick." He held up a half-empty bottle of whiskey, waiting for Dean's verdict. Dean nearly choked on the first mouthful, finally managing to swallow and wave down the offer of more whiskey. "No. No, we're good." It was still practically burning a toxic hole in his tongue. Sam smiled happily. "Yeah?" Dean nodded with a smile of his own. "Yeah." Sam returned the whiskey bottle to the coffee table and took a seat, gesturing for Dean to do the same. "Good. Well, uh, have a seat. Let’s do… Christmas stuff, or whatever." Dean set his eggnog cup down on the corner of the coffee table and shrugged out of his jacket, draping it over the back of his chair before sitting.

"All right, first things first" he declared, reaching into the bag Sam had taken from him upon arrival and pulling two gift-wrapped objects from within. There had been a gas station on the road between the motel and liquor store and he'd made a pit stop. He offered the gifts to his brother. "Merry Christmas Sam." "Where'd you get these" Sam wanted to know, accepting them gratefully. "Someplace special" Dean returned before waiting half a second and elaborating with a grin. "The gas mart down the street." Sam chuckled, reaching under the couch with his free hand. "Great minds think alike Dean." "Really??" Dean was touched to see two wrapped presents being offered his way. He'd been assuming that since Sam had been very anti-Christmas this whole time that he wouldn't have gotten anything. Sam nodded in confirmation as Dean smiled broadly. "Awesome."

Sam opened his first present, which was two porn magazines. "Yeah, skin mags" Sam cheered enthusiastically, putting them aside and opening his second present. "And...shaving cream!!" Dean nodded, pleased with Sam's reactions. "You like?" Sam nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I do." Dean pounced on his own presents, finding a bottle of gasoline and a power bar. "Look at this" he crowed, holding them up. "Fuel for me and fuel for my baby." He felt his throat tightening dangerously and cleared it so his voice wouldn't be choked up when he finished with, "these are awesome Sam, thanks."

Sam picked up his cup of eggnog and stared into it pensively. "Hey Dean" he began after a minute. "You..." He stopped, evidently unable to get out the words he wanted to say. He lifted his eyes to meet Dean's and there was a long, heavy silence, full of unsaid things that the boys both realized in that moment didn't necessarily need to be said. They understood each other perfectly without a single word passing through either set of lips. "You feel like watching the game" Sam finished finally, his eyes glassy but his lips twisting upwards into a smile. Dean's expression was pretty much a mirror image. "Yes. Absolutely" he agreed, picking up his own cup of eggnog, taking another sip, and wincing at its potency. Sam picked up the remote and jabbed the power button, flooding the room with sound. Dean held up his cup, tilting it towards Sam.

"Merry Christmas Bro."

[THE END.]

We hunt monsters....you know who does that? Crazy people!

A Very Supernatural Christmas. // Dean //

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