Traditions aren't a normal part of Winchester life, but they try. Pre AHBL (Just like 'Like Us')
Snow In Nevada
"We have only this moment, sparkling like a star in our hand... and melting like a snowflake. Let us use it before it is too late."
- Marie Beyon Ray
…
State Highway 226; Tuscarora, Nevada
December 23, 2006
"Snow…snow in Nevada." Sam muttered, smiling sideways at Dean in the driver's seat and the snowy landscape outside the windshield. "Never would have thought, in a desert."
Dean shrugged, "It's north eastern Nevada, were barely a hundred miles from Utah. There's going to be snow."
"Still is desert territory." Sam argued but didn't push it. Glancing at Dean, Sam could see the waxy pallor creeping in at the edges of Dean's skin. His elder brother sniffed heavily and fought back sneezes and spent half of his free hand time rubbing his nose or eyes. Green orbs half lidded and blinking slowly like there was a pound of sand in each.
Influenza.
Sometimes Sam just wished Dean would roll over. At least they were headed for Wounded Heart. The air there was therapeutic by nature; Dean would be a hundred percent by Christmas.
"Dean."
The elder Winchester blinked blearily, his head actually bobbed forward a little.
"Dean."
"Yeah?" Dean seemed to snap himself out of a falling trance.
"We're late." Sam motioned towards the dash clock.
"So?"
"We promised to be there for the whole play."
"We'll go straight to the school." Dean rubbed his face roughly once, clearing his head and slammed his foot down on the gas. The Impala roared, as if approving of the spark back into normalcy and lunged forward on the road, charging full till over the asphalt wheels sliding a little on the slush of the highway.
"We're not going to make it. Its twenty-five miles away and it starts in half an hour."
"Ye of little faith." Dean snorted and gunned harder, making Sam's heart pound a little bit nervously. It wasn't that he didn't have faith, he just didn't approve of the idea of a sick big brother maneuvering a massive muscle monster on a snowy highway.
Sam's jaw almost didn't unclench as Dean performed a little fancy fishtailing into a parking spot in the crowded Tuscarora High School parking lot.
Sam let himself shiver a little, just one good shake, before relaxing and breathing out heavily.
"See? In plenty of time." Dean shot his little brother a crooked, half smile as he cut the engine and climbed out of the driver's seat. Dean swung his door shut with a snap. He let out a shaky breath and shivered a little, his breath rose in clouds of vapor from his lips. Dean scanned the parking lot, finally spotting Celia's massive white Chevrolet Silverado. The black silhouette stickers of horses on the tail gate, he blinked and nodded in approval at an added bumper sticker that supported the Houston Texas and the Dallas Cowboys slapped across the steel of her bumper next to one that read 'I'm proud of my Marine'.
Sam finally climbed out, walked around to the trunk, whistled for and caught the keys as Dean tossed them over. In a few seconds Sam had rooted out two crisp button down shirts one red the other a paler blue. The brothers shed their jackets, sweatshirts and flannels away from white tee shirts and swiftly pulled on the dress shirts, buttoning them down and tossing their flannels and hoodies into the trunk. Sam folded the collar of the blue shirt over before straightening it and sliding his arms back into his quickly cooling jacket. Dean tugged on his leather jacket then started rooting around in the trunk. He dug through one of his duffels and came up a small white box, slightly smudged with mud or gun powder or some other substance. Dean held it firmly in his hand for a second before stuffing it into his pocket and pushing the trunk shut.
"Dean." Sam nodded towards the school, where a large outdoor message board decorated with the high school's name and the Tuscarora Coyotes' mascot advertised: Christmas Pageant Tonight!
The two brothers took off across the crowded parking lot at a long legged jog. They checked their pace at the door, checking again and for the first time in their natural lives to make sure they weren't carrying any weapons before slipping inside and through the metal detectors standard for Nevada public schools after the Columbine scare. A Tuscarora police officer nodded as they passed and pointed them towards the set of stairs that led down to the auditorium. Sam and Dean ducked and weaved through clusters of older siblings, parents and obscure relatives. Nodding to a few familiar faces on their way to the stairwell.
"Dean! Sammy!"
Both Winchesters pulled up short and twisted around, looking for the voice. They broke into smiles as Celia literally shoved her way through the group of fathers comparing digital video cameras.
Sam took a step forward, always the first to seek physical contact and wrapped her up in a tight hug. Celia allowed the contact for the allotted few seconds before pushing him back. Dean got a chance to look at her; she was in her dark dress jeans, thick black belt and a oval, silver belt buckle. A red button down shirt, three quarter sleeves, was tucked in securely and her tawny Stetson hat in place. Dean had to admit that Celia was a rare red head; she could pull off all those rosette tones. Dean had even seen her wear and pull off pink. The blood red shirt was no exception, it fit her curves and pulled her eyes and hair color out well. Dean wondered how uncomfortable she was with her Stetson pulled over her horns.
"Dean."
"Hey, Celia." Dean stepped into a quick embrace, breaking off though both actually wanted to hang on.
"Ya made it, perfect time." Celia commended. The brothers beamed at the compliment and couldn't help the bubble of pride at the pure look of admiration and affection in her eyes.
"Don't bother goin' upstairs. Just head down this hall and through the side door by the stage entrance. Momma Rosa is right there, third row back in the center. Got seats saved for ya."
"Thanks, Red." Sam said happily and practically dove into the wall of people, heading for the door that Celia had motioned towards. Dean started to follow when her small but strong hand caught his arm and pulled him back.
Dean tensed, feeling his stomach drop and tighten. He swallowed thickly and braced, masking the anxiety on his face with curiosity as he looked down at her.
"Hold on a second, Dean."
Her tone and words, spoken softly and carefully made Dean relax a little. He could tell from that little that she was trying hard to take it easy, steering as far from one of their typical confrontations as possible.
"I kind of have a favor to ask ya." She looked up at him hopefully, cocking her head slightly. Dean couldn't help the small smile pass his lips.
He shrugged nonchalantly and threw her his typical, crooked smile. "What's up?"
She smiled, breathing out and relaxing a little.
"I need ya to be Santa."
Dean did a double take and looked at her again. "What?"
"The older kids wanted to do somethin' for the pups, seein' as they all worked real hard on this pageant. So they asked Justin to dress up like Santa so they could tell him their wish lists and all that."
"Justin bailed, huh?"
She nodded.
"Useless State Troopers." Dean growled and Celia huffed a small laugh.
"Dean?"
He let out an exasperated sigh, as if frustrated with life itself and rolled his eyes. All clearly teasing Celia.
"I guess so." He sighed.
Celia's smile drifted into her eyes and she reached up cupping his face on either side of his head. She gave him the tiniest of shakes and pulled his head down, so they were eye level.
"God love ya, Dean Winchester."
"Don't get all excited, I want something in return." Dean said with a sly grin. Her face twisted in confusion and she stared at him.
"Like what?" She let go of his face and set her hands on her hips.
"Did you get Sam and me Christmas presents?"
She narrowed her eyes a little, twitching her nose before giving a cautious nod.
"You fork 'em over tonight after the pageant."
"Presents two days early…Ya want yer brother's present, too?"
"No, I get mine and Sam gets his, tonight."
Celia narrowed her eyes. "No."
"Alright." Dean shrugged and turned walking away.
"Wait!" She snagged his arm and pulled him back. Dean smiled smugly and stood back with his hands buried deep in his pockets, one wrapped tightly around the little white box. Celia shifted her weight, glaring at him.
"Yers ain't done." She finally managed out, sighing and looking completely frustrated with him. Dean's eyebrows crept up towards his hair line.
"Really?"
Celia let out a breath, looking up at him through her eye lashes.
"I'm not doing it unless you pony up." Dean smirked as using her favorite term.
"Tomorrow. Tomorrow ya get a look at it on yer own."
"No dice, me and Sam." Dean defended his choice to stick with his brother stubbornly.
"Curtain in five!" Some one hollered from down the hall and the people cluttering the hall started shifting and moving in the general direction of the stairwells and auditorium doors. Dean smiled, the pressure was coming down hard on Celia, he could see her starting to twitch and break.
"Celia?"
"Just what I'm givin' ya?"
Dean shrugged a little but nodded.
"Tomorrow stands."
Dean's head twitched in agreement.
"Done."
Dean gave her a cat that ate the canary smile and motioned towards the stairwell. "Lead the way, I'm yours."
Celia grunted and trotted up the flight of stairs instead of down. He bounded on her heels, following down a deserted second floor hall to a door. She tugged it open and waited for him to squeeze passed her then let it fall shut. Dean glanced around, another hall, only occupied by stacked boxes and stored tables and items. Celia led him down the short hall to a door at the far end and tugged it open.
"Last of the old stage wings." She explained as Dean slipped into the offset room. "Before they remolded four or five years ago."
Dean glanced around. It did look like an old dressing room, large but somewhat crowded with stored costumes and props from shows past.
"Door right there leads out to the sound booth and to the cat walk." Celia motioned towards another door.
"Can't do this down on the stage?"
"Ya kiddin'? Those kids'll get so distracted seein' ya that they'll never get through the damn pageant. Here."
She motioned towards the clear side of the room. A long desk top was built and leveraged into the wall below a massive ballet mirror hung on the wall and round lit bulbs above. Several chairs pushed up to the desk. There was a large carved wood box sitting on the surface along with a few other odds and ends, especially makeup containers covered with a thick layer of dust. A small plastic bag with red stripes and filled with sweets was still tightly tied shut sitting on the desk top. Dean blinked heavily and sneezed loudly.
"Bless ya."
"Thanks."
"Ya sound a little stuffed up there Dean." Celia said stepping over to the carved box, Dean followed leaning back against the table, testing it before sliding back to sit on it. He reached for the treat bag and untied the red ribbon. He dug out a chocolate and set it into his jaw, letting it melt instead of chewing it.
"I am a little." Dean sniffed, rubbing his nose.
"Ya goin' to be alright?"
He shrugged and nodded. Letting his eyes fall to the carved box. He twisted his head to inspect the designs in the wood as he stripped off his jacket and tossed over the back of a chair. It looked like an elk or a caribou bull, at a mid trot across the top of the box and surrounded by a boarder of bells and holly plants. Dean reached over and traced his fingers over the carved box.
"I'm kind of glad that it's ya and not Justin. I trust ya more than that air head as of late."
Dean shrugged, eyes flicking from her to the box and back.
"Dean, this' been in the family a while. Ya'll be careful with it, right?"
"Sure, Celia."
She nodded and lifted he lid off the box and gently extracted the garment inside.
Dean watched as she moved and held out the Santa jacket towards him. Dean shook it out, the thick scarlet fabric was painstakingly woven and embroidered with swirls and curves, soft velvet between his fingers. A thick collar and cuffs of carefully combed, white rabbit fur, lined in black satin and large sterling silver clasps lined down each side of the coat.
"It's ninety seven years old, Dean." It was said like a warning and a plead. Dean pressed his nose into the fabric and sniffed.
"It doesn't even smell musty." Dean muttered, running his fingers over the designs.
"Greers been taking care of it for ninety seven years," Celia extracted the pants of the suit, the same scarlet fabric. Glancing at it Dean noticed a curled red cord looped as a draw string, the whole suit was designed to fit someone about Dean's frame. "Just had it cleaned a week ago, too."
Dean nodded as Celia extracted the rest of the costume. A large set of heavy leather boots that would climb to his mid calf, a dress beard that Dean oddly found to be made of the same white rabbit fur and an over large round hat, also hemmed in the rabbit fur. He was a little surprised by the variation from the normal triangle hat with a puff at the end. The round cap just that, a flat circular hat too large for Dean's head. The rest of the carved box emptied out as a pair of large doeskin gloves lined in fur, a string of sterling silver links that could have been a belt or a very large necklace, large silver bells, a black and red satin embroidered sash that would tie as a belt around the waist.
"Ready?" Celia asked, Dean nodded and unbuttoned the black shirt, pulling his arms out of it and tossing the garment on top of his leather. Dean kicked off his boots and slid down to the floor, sniffing loudly and rubbing his face.
"Hurry up, Dean, we're missin' the principal's announcements." Celia urged, reaching forward and unbuttoning his jeans.
"Hey, hey. Easy on the goods." Dean swatted her hands away. Celia rolled her eyes skyward and stood back. Dean stripped off his jeans, tossing them on his pile of clothes and quickly tugged the velvet slacks into place over his socks and boxers. He tied off the draw string and reached for the boots, tugging them up to his mid calf over the velvet slacks and shifting his feet around in the foreign.
"I though you said we weren't going down to the stage." Dean sniffed loudly. Reaching for the scarlet jacket and slid his arms through the sleeves, luckily there were just about right, resting a little longer over his wrists than he would have liked. But the coat itself fell long, the bottom hem of white rabbit fur hung mid way down his thighs towards his knees.
"Ya cain't, yer the grande finale. But we can watch from the catwalk." Celia said, reach to Dean's fumbling hands and clicked the silver claps into place for him. She gripped his fore arm and tugged the elder Winchester after her. Dean snagged the plastic bag of treats and followed out the door after her.
Dean glanced around the sound room, lined with expensive sound and lighting equipment, a narrow shoulder and chested black teacher in jeans and a tee shirt and two high school aged students. They didn't even acknowledge Dean and Celia as they slipped passed out a far door and onto the catwalk. Dean experienced then shook off a shock of vertigo before cautiously following the red eyed woman out into the narrow walk of messed black metal, ducking a little under the ropes of cabling and wiring and a few large lights to a gap of open catwalk. Looking around Dean could see the entirety of the packed auditorium and full, unhindered view of the stage below. The elder Winchester even spotted his younger brother and Rosa Greer sitting center and three rows back from the stage. Turning around to look over the other side of the catwalk and Dean saw countless fathers holding camcorders and digital cameras.
Celia tugged off her Stetson hat, dropping it onto the catwalk before gripping the railing and swinging down to sit on the metal mesh, hanging her legs over the edge. The action gave Dean a miniature heart attack before he eased his large frame a little more gingerly down to site next to her, preferring to sit further back and keep his legs on the solidity of the metal mesh.
The principal of the elementary and high school were on stage in front of a massive blue curtain and speaking into microphones, thanking parents and guests and the kids for working so hard.
"Just in time." Celia breathed out and shifted over until her hip was pressed securely against Dean's calf.
Dean rested his weight back on his hands and sniffed loudly, watching with a mild fascination.
Dean had never been in or fully attended a school performed pageant or function. The furthest he had gone is one year as kids Sam had been in a little play as an Indian one Thanksgiving. Dean had made sure Sam had seen him in the crowd before slipping out and running off to find something better to do before ducking back later to pick Sam up afterwards.
But Dean genuinely paid close attention to the Tuscarora presentation for the holidays as he and Celia slowly ate their way through the treats in the plastic bag. Each grade class had something to do. The younger classes all struggled through holidays songs, little fists gripping white knuckled to tambourines or plastic circles of large silver bells, shaking them out of tune. Some of the songs Dean knew faintly, others he knew to well and he was lost in hysterical laughter when the fourth graders sang I Farted On Santa's Lap. Celia grinned and looking down could see the gene for reaction toward toilet humor ran strong in the Winchester blood lines as Sam was twisting in his seat laughing madly at the same time. It left both brothers in mild tears and sniffing loudly.
The pageant continued in a steady melody until the sixth graders, Imogene's class, seventh and eight graders made it on stage to perform a short play they put together that consisted of a 'cowboy' version of A Christmas Carol. Not half bad, as far as Dean was concerned, he preferred the understandable version the kids came up with compared to the old English presentations on television. And the high schoolers wrapped it up with a second short play that Dean paid less attention to now that Imogene's presence had passed. The most he really caught was that there was a seriously depressed guy wishing he'd never been born.
"Dean." Celia tugged on his sleeve as she pushed herself up to her feet and stepped over his legs back towards the sound booth. After a second he scrambled to follow, his heart thumped sharply when a miss step swung him toward the rail and a fifteen foot fall. Dean took a deep breath and continued, slipping seemingly unnoticed behind the teacher and AV students and back into the old stage wing.
Celia was using a comb to brush out the rabbit fur beard and hat before she set them aside and approached the elder Winchester. Dean stood docilely still while Celia fiddled and shifted the costume and fitted everything into place.
The red eyed woman clicked the remaining silver clasps closed on the jacket, draped the silver chain over his shoulders and across his chest, tied the black and red sash around his waist and secured large silver bells into strategic places on the coat and boots.
"So how is this going to work?" Dean asked.
"We're going down to the wing while the pups are all singin' a Santa Claus song, they take their little bow and we'll walk out on stage-"
"We?" Dean asked, cocking his head and bending to allow her to tie the rabbit fur beard into place, loops over his ears and one around his neck. He forced back a sneeze and adjusted the beard to fit correctly, luckily it was far from the scratchy clump he'd expected due to years of comedic media about them being so. It felt more like an unusually soft scarf he'd wrapped around his face.
"Ya want to face those kids on yer own?"
Dean adamantly shook his head and Celia nodded approvingly at his reaction.
"After they all lose their minds ya get to sit in a that big chair they were using on stage and the pups all is on yer knee and tell ya the stuff they probably won't get, ya hand 'em a treat and say somethin' nice, repeat."
"Treat?" Dean was a little startled at the muffled deepening of his voice.
"We got it covered, a little chocolate Santa. Then ya say adios and yer free."
"So Santa walks out and hops into an Impala, nice." Dean snorted.
"No Impala."
"What?" Dean said sharply.
"No Impala." Celia growled back sternly, reaching up and setting the round cap on his head tugging it a little into place. "Sam's got the Impala, yer gonna leave in front of all those kids yer goin' in a sleigh."
"A sleigh."
"I got it covered, Dean. Please, just go with me on this."
Dean looked down into her blood colored eyes and sighed heavily. "Alright."
She nodded assuringly then nudged his shoulder, twisting him to face the wall mirror. Dean blinked staring at himself.
"Wow."
Dean found himself unrecognizable. He studied the man looking back at him, like the cover of a Courier and Ives print, the classical image of Saint Nicholas before Hallmark and cartoons got to him. Dean's green eyes stared back at him from between a mock mane of white. The lining on the cap blending in solidly with the fur beard to make it seem like he had a head full of white hair beneath the red velvet cap, his shoulders seemed wider and his gut more pronounced. The transformation was almost unsettling. Looking at his image Dean didn't honestly feel like himself.
"Yer a regular Papa Noel, Dean." Celia assured, patting his arm.
Dean puffed his chest. "Ho. Ho. Ho."
"Don't do that, please." Celia said shortly, she gave a little shiver. "Creepy."
Dean raised an eyebrow, then felt her hand tug his arm sharply.
"Let's go." Celia led him back to the far door, out into the deserted halls of the school, rushing to the far door, out and into the stairs, they rushed down, Dean's borrowed boots thundering compared to Celia's noiseless steps. They jogged down the first floor hall towards the west side wing door and tugged it open, ducking in between teachers and older students. Everyone smiled warmly at Dean as he scrambled to stay with Celia. Dean struggled to keep his breathing under control, forcing the congestion and ache in his lungs to settle and gave a grateful gasp when Celia stopped short at the drawn back curtain. Dean chocked through a muffle coughing fit before settling and looking out across the stage. The backdrops and props still in place as the majority of the Tuscarora, Nevada child population stood in chorus and sang Santa Clause is Coming to Town. There only had to have been about a hundred kids ranging from Kindergarden age to late teens, Dean always forgot just how small Tuscarora was.
"Ready?" Celia asked as she straightened her red button down and tugged her Stetson firmly into place over her horns.
"What do I say?" Dean muttered.
"'Happy Christmas', Dean. Here we go." She tugged his arm once and they stepped out towards the group of kids as they struck the last cords of the song and the adult populace broke into applause. The chorus bowed once. Dean and Celia straightened and plastered smiles on their faces, she walked on his right flank, making sure the kids and crowd could see him. Grins all spread across faces in the audience and Sam's jaw dropped, clicking away with his Treo. The students turned as they had been instructed to, expecting only to file out on the left wing in order and half of them froze solid where they stood, staring at Dean in absolute shock.
Celia smiling away planted an elbow in his side, signaling.
"Merry Christmas!" Dean boomed as loud as he could, surprised again that the beard and his cold altered his voice enough that he sounded something like the average Christmas special Santa.
They screamed.
His heart stopped in mild terror and he would have run for his life if Celia's hand hadn't been practically digging into his lower back to keep him in place.
They screamed like chocolate liquor high Sorority Girls during Spring Break, wails of absolute ecstasy and rushed forward. Dean tried to get his breath back as kids, male and female ranging from their earliest years to twelve and thirteen raced at him. Dean braced against the wave of over forty kids and tried to loom as overjoyed at the kids evidently felt. He could barely hear the audience and older kids cheering and clapping over the shots and wishes thrown at him.
A shrill, rattling whistle tore through the air and the world stopped.
Thank you Dean thought and looked with everyone else towards Celia.
"Guys! Relax! The Old Man has time to hear all of ya!" Celia barked. The kids closest to Dean, clutching at the velvet coat and pants desperately muttered quietly to each other.
"Y'all want to tell Santa what ya want, right?"
"Yes!" They chorused together.
"Then go get yer parents and yer coats and get back here in ten minuets, right Santa?" Celia looked directly at Dean, as if making sure to remind him he was who she meant.
"Absolutely right, Celia." Dean boomed and somehow managed a rolling chuckle. "So get a move on!"
The group of kids tore away from him as fast as they had rushed him screaming at each other and their parents in the audience.
The older kids trotted by him, smiling gratefully or stopping to shake his hand before moving on.
Dean heaved out a massive sigh, jumping when Celia's hand patted heavily on his shoulder.
"Better."
"Most terrifying minuet ever." Dean whispered, twisting as Sam trotted and vaulted up onto the stage and jogged across towards them, he stopped a foot off and before Dean could protest snapped several more pictures with his Tero.
"Sam!"
"Bobby is going to have a fit." Sam snorted, grinning madly.
"Leave yer brother alone, Sammy." Celia scolded and hooked her hand over Dean's arm, tugging him gently over to a massive chair that had been used as a prop for the two miniature plays. A teacher was lugging a small green and red trunk and set it next to the chair, flipping open the lid.
"Yer Santas Red." The dark eyed man waved at the trunk, then looked at Dean, "Thanks for doin' this favor, son."
"Sure." Dean returned the offered hand shake before he sank down into the chair, shifting around stiffly in the hard wood.
"Alright, Dean, just ask 'em what they want or what ever and give 'em a Santa. Ya got the charm, its already in the bag." Celia assured.
"You aren't leaving, right?" Dean swatted at Sam as the younger Winchester tried to get in close for a few pictures. Celia smiled assuringly at the nervous tone in his voice.
"I'll be right here." She stepped around to his left side and patted his shoulder.
Dean nodded and swallowed thickly as the first three kids, dressed in their coats and sweaters, broke away from their parents and rushed towards him, still dressed up in shiny shoes, slacks and dresses. Celia stepped forward protectively and held up her hands. The three students skidding like startled horses and instantly falling into line, looking up at her expectantly. Dean glanced from Celia to the attentive kids, a second of silence lingering as two more kids trotted up quickly to take their places in the line.
"Good." Celia commented and swiftly lifted the six year old at the front of the line and plopped the girl onto Dean's left knee. Dean cleared his throat and forced a smile at the bright eyed blonde.
"Hi, Santa." She chirped, and Dean instantly relaxed.
"Hello, sweetheart. What do you want for Christmas?"
When she was done rolling off a list Dean handed her a chocolate Santa and nudged her off his lap, barely a second passed before Celia hauled the next kid into his lap. For over an hour Dean chatted and charmed, teased and treated the kids of Tuscarora until the very last walked up to his side and hugged him tightly around the neck instead of climbing into his lap.
"Hi, Uncle Dean." Imogene Greer whispered, leaning over the arm of the chair towards him. She winked at him and Dean smiled back.
"Hey Genie."
"I know yer not Santa but I think its real cool that ya are workin' for him."
Imogene Greer still believed in Santa Claus?
Dean blinked and flicked his eyes towards Celia looking for assurance and an answer, starting again and finding to his surprise and fear that Sam had taken her place and the red eyed rancher was no where in sight.
"Yeah, doing him a favor." Dean said quickly before Imogene noticed his hesitation.
"Everyone really liked ya being Santa." Imogene continued and flicked the rabbit fur beard. "I'm really glad and an Uncle Sam showed up for the play."
"You were great, Imogene." Dean lifted his stiff arm and draped it over the eleven year old's shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze.
"Thanks, can ya do me a favor, Uncle Dean?"
"Depends." Dean teased.
"Can ya tell the old man that I would really like it if he could get a Shar Pei for me? That's all I want and ya'll put in a good word, right? 'Cause ya know I'd take care of 'em." Imogene pleaded with Dean, looking at him hopefully.
Dean panicked, it wasn't the first puppy request he'd gotten that night but when it was Imogene, Celia's little sister, it was hard to make a promise he knew he couldn't keep. Dean looked around for help, his eyes catching Rosa Greer's. The tawny skinned, dark eyed and hair woman smiled at him and gave a small nod of assurance. Dean sighed happily.
"Sure will, Genie."
"Thanks Uncle Dean!" She whispered loudly and wrapped her arms tightly around Dean's throat and squeezed until he choked. She bounded back towards Rosa, then whirled on the spot to look back at him.
"And an acoustic guitar!"
"Yes, ma'am." Dean nodded, reached down into the trunk and extracted a chocolate Santa and tossed it to her. She caught it, shot a knowing look at Dean and trotted away stripping off the foil.
"Is that everyone?" Dean boomed in his Santa voice.
"Yes sir, Mr. Claus." Sam smiled widely, clearly mocking Dean without the rest of the crowd of kids knowing. All of them looking ready to leap back into Dean's lap as they crunched through their chocolate.
"Then I better make my way back north."
He was met with a collective groan as Dean pushed himself stiffly up out of the wooden throne. Once upright Dean heaved a massive sigh and looked towards Sam, clearly left in charge in Celia's absence. The younger Winchester nodded his brother in the direction of the steps off the stage.
"Don't worry! I'll be back in a few days of course!"
Dean was starting to convince himself. He smiled warmly at the cheers that met him and he allowed Sam to heard him towards the stairs off of the stage and towards an exit door.
"Don't want to miss you're ride, Mr. Claus."
Dean took a chance out of sight to plant an elbow in Sam's side as they progressed out into the hall and up the stairs. Within a few seconds Imogene rushed up and linked her arm with Sam's and a glance over their shoulders showed the brothers they were being followed by the majority of the populace of Tuscarora towards the front exit. Sam grinned at Dean and Imogene winked at them both. Dean and Sam burst into the cold air of the out of doors, again experiencing the shock of December in Nevada and the sheer freezing air that choked them for a few long seconds before they could breath correctly again, Dean's sinuses slightly clearer than they had been for the last few days before they clogged again stuffed with Influenza virus and bodily fluids. Dean blinked his watering eyes and barely was able to check the hitch in his step at the sight that met him.
The sleigh was another Courier and Ives print, sleek curling shape a little variant from what most expected a sleigh to look like. It was designed more like an old fashioned open carriage; the only difference was it was set on runners instead of wide, spoked wheels. A kerosene lamp mounted on each of the four corners of the sleigh and lit it brightly and better than daylight could have. Painted elegant white and trimmed with carved inlays of gold and touches of scarlet within the designs of vines and flur de lis. Plush, tawny seats and polished honey colored wood hitch linked up to smooth, oiled leather traces strapped into place on the chests and backs of two massive Belgian draft horses. The Greer family's twin work horses, Bonny and Bo. Their burnt honey coats brushed until they shone like pale copper, they chewed at gold plated bits and shifted on dinner plate sized hooves. Each movement of the seven foot tall horse team sent a shiver through large, polished gold bells tethered to the traces. They glittered like miniature stars in the light cast off from the school. The voice of each bell tickled Dean's ears. A twist of his head Dean noticed two carefully folded fleece blankets on the seat and half hidden underneath a large thermos. The floor of the sleigh was occupied by the large carved box, lid slightly ajar as it over flowed with his shed clothes.
To top it all off Celia was standing straight and tall in the driver's seat. Wrapped tightly in her fleece and suede coat, the wide collar tucked in close at her throat and chin, her Stetson pulled down around her ears and her leather gloved hands looped lightly in the reins.
She smiled at Dean and nodded him forward.
The crowd behind gathering at the edge of the side walk waved and cheered at Dean as he hauled himself up into the sleigh and settled back into the seat. He lifted a hand, waving slowly.
"Merry Christmas!" He boomed, his voice almost cracking as it started to strain.
"Ready, Santa?" Celia asked over her shoulder. Dean nodded, refraining from making a smart comment and stayed put as Celia snapped the reins and whistled.
Bonny and Bo nickered and stepped into their traces, taking three massive steps before breaking to smooth trots, kicking up their hooves with nickers and ringing of gilded bells. Dean kept waving and listening to the good byes and cheers before settling back into the seat and sighing in relief.
"Thanks, Dean." Celia said over her shoulder, tugging the reins and steering to two massive horses towards the back side off the school gliding smoothly over the snow.
Sam and Imogene watched from the curb. Rosa stepping up next to them.
"Ya two better hurry up, or yer gonna miss yer ride." The mother gently nudged Sam's shoulder.
"Momma, I got my sleep over." Imogene protested.
"Ya don't think I can handle a bunch of eleven year olds? Scoot, go have a little fun, alright? Get home in a hour, alright? It's already late. I'll take care of the Impala and truck." Rosa Greer looked pointedly at Sam. The younger Winchester nodded, still unsure what they were being sent to do.
"Thanks Momma!" Imogene tugged Sam into a sprint. They dodged around the slowly dispersing crowd of people and raced for the far side of the school. Sam checking his long legged pace to keep from outstripping Imogene as she bounded through the foot of snow. They slowed up halfway across the football field as the sound of bells rung across the snow, the two Belgians nickered quietly as Celia steered the sleigh towards them, checking the horses' paces and slowing to a stop. Dean was struggling into the driver's seat, scooting close to Celia's legs while she still stood.
"C'mon Uncle Sam!" Imogene scrambled into the sleigh and Sam followed, sliding in next to her and barely seated before Celia whistled and clicked her tongue, sending Bonny and Bo off at a hot trot.
Dean unstrung the rabbit fur beard from his face but instead of stripping it off tucked it in around his throat like a scarf. He burrowed deeper into the velvet coat and white fur trim, tightening the bubble of warmth around his frame. It was colder up in the diver's seat, nothing to break up the chill wind rushing over the horses' backs. There was another blanket folded on the seat and Dean quickly shook it out and wrapped it around himself. He shivered anyway. The elder Winchester didn't mind the winter months but he'd never been one for cold weather; snow and ice were great if he could look at it through a window or windshield. Actually being out in the cold didn't agree with him, and the onset of flu only seeded that deeper, he practically buried his face into the rapidly warming fleece blanket and shivered. He felt the seat next to him shift and Celia eased down to sit next to him. Dean lifted his face out of the rabbit fur and fleece, just enough that he could see over Bo and Bonny's backs. The two draft horses trotted, practically gliding over the snow, their path lit by the soft glow of the mounted lanterns.
"Where are we going?" Dean rasped out, allowing his voice to weaken and collapse now that he didn't need it.
"Trot around before head back to the ranch." Celia assured, smiling gently at him, giving the reins a little flick.
"Thanks for the ride, sis!" Imogene chirped from her place, snuggled tightly into Sam's side under the other two blankets. "Go through the backwoods!"
"Yes ma'am." Celia assured and clicked her tongue at the two Belgians. Bo and Bonny nickered, tossing their heads and making the bells ring louder, the two animals broke into a lope, their huge hooves breaking through untouched snow and crossing the high school sports fields and started up a slight slope towards a line of trees.
Dean twisted around to look at his younger brother and Imogene, Sam grinned madly, holding tightly to the thermos. The movement of the sleigh was smooth enough that he could easily drink out of the container. Sam noticed Dean's eyes and held the thermos out expectantly. Dean gave his head a single shake before looking forward again and dug in again. Dean scooted over and pressed closer into Celia's side. He tried to soak in the warmth she put out. Dean wondered if it was the demon within that caused it but Celia had a higher body temperature than the human ninety six point eight, that inner core of warmth radiated, spilled out, even heating the air around her by a few degrees and Dean took advantage of it whenever he could.
She shifted, accepting his closeness but kept her eyes and hands at work. Miniscule flicks and twists of her fingers and wrists changed the course and pace of the two horses. Bonny and Bo skirted along the edge of the trees, snorting and nickering until Celia flicked the reins and guided them onto a wide path cutting through the barren trees, the long shadows cast by a full moon rippling over the horses' backs and Celia's face. The only sound cutting through the silence the two Belgians' breathing, hoof beats and the ringing of the gilded bells. The rhythmic chorus of sound and the sliding sway of the sleigh lulled Dean, exhausted by exertion and his thickening cold. He lost track of time, nesting down in his personal bubble of warmth and taking in the sight and feeling of his first winter sleight ride. He was aware that he would have felt a little more wonder and joy over the whole experience if it wasn't for the sheer need for sleep washing over him.
He barely registered them breaking out from under the trees and trotting across flat snow, brilliant lit by moonlight.
Dean twisted around to mutter something to Sam. His voice died in his throat. Imogene was curled tightly into Sam's side, the younger Winchester's head dipped sideways and resting on top of her head. Both younger siblings deep in sleep, Sam's chocolate hair gently ruffled by the moving air. They looked so peaceful and safe.
"They asleep?" Celia asked quietly.
Dean nodded, his throat having closed up enough that he knew his voice would have come out as a weak rasp. A whisper at best.
"Good." Celia breathed a sigh of relief.
Dean smiled thinly; he knew exactly what she meant. Why was it that older siblings only seemed to be able relax and breathe when the younger ones were asleep in eyesight? It was a comfort to the soul that gave elder siblings the chance to think only of themselves and their wants and needs. A refreshment for mind and body that went unrivaled. Especially in the line of work that Dean and Sam entertained. Not to mention Celia always worrying over her prepubescent sister being crushed by the normalcy of life that was creeping into the bubble of childhood. It didn't help that she had twice the worry. Her elder brother, Elijah was in Iraq again. His third year long tour and Elijah Greer was beginning to push his luck.
Dean sighed sadly at the thought and shifted over again, pressing closer into Celia's side, suddenly wide awake. She glanced at him before setting her eyes back onto their trail across the stretch of blue white snow. The two drafters kicking up small bursts of snow and as the temperature dropped ice.
Dean's eyes soaked in the rolling prairie, his heart slowly thudding in his chest and his core getting warmer. Just starting to feel comfortable when he noticed the lights and shapes off on the left were the welcome sight of the Greer's Wounded Heart Ranch. Within a few minuets Celia checked Bonny and Bo's pace again, slowing to a walk and still gliding smoothly over the snow, through and open pipe gate and towards the stable, the doors still secured closed against the cold and weather.
Celia tugged the reins back, standing as Bonny and Bo stepped right up to the closed doors and stood waiting, still chewing at their bits. Before Dean could move she jumped down to the snow earth and pushed in front of the honey colored Belgians and unlocked the stable doors, pushing hard on each side and sending the wood sliding along steel railing to gape open into the twenty, double stall stable. Celia wrapped her hand in the reins and tugged Bo forward. Bonny nickered and followed her brother as they tugged the sleigh back into motion, dragging it with a little more effort in out of the elements and just inside of the stall doors across the hard packed earth. Feral cats scattered, horses dozing in their stalls perked up, nickering softly and shaking their heads. Dean twisted at the sounds of Sam and Imogene shifting around in the seat. Sam shook himself a little, blinking heavily.
"Sammy, will ya take my sister in the stead, please?" Celia practically whispered as she stepped around to strip the blankets, thermos and carved wood box out of the sleigh.
"Sure." Sam muttered, nudging Imogene blearily out of the sleigh. Sam shook himself more awake while Imogene remained dead on her feet.
"C'mon Genie." Sam stepped around in front of her and squatted down. The youngest Greer automatically wrapped her arms around Sam's throat as the youngest Winchester hooked his arms under her knees and lifted the eleven year old up onto his back; he head rolled forward and pressed into his shoulder.
"Thanks Sammy." Celia smiled. Sam nodded with a massive yawn; already walking towards the front of the barn, passed the rows of hay bales and half awake horses towards the massive double doors. Sam managed to unlock and push open on side of the massive doors, leaving it open and stepped out into the yard. Crunching heavily across the snowy landscape towards the warm glow of the house.
Dean kicked off the blanket around his frame and slipped off the flat hat and rabbit fur beard, reveling in the heated barn as he set to work helping Celia unhitch, rub down and turn the two draft horses into their stalls with buckets of grain and warm water. He helped Celia dry off the sleigh and pulled the cloth cover over the top of it. They each grabbed one of the doors and tugged them shut, meeting in the middle
Celia smiled tiredly at Dean and carrying the box between them they started towards the open door and towards to the house. Dean dug his phone out of his jeans and lit the screen.
He stopped short, giving Celia a jerk.
"Dean." Celia practically moaned, rolling her head back towards him. She blinked at his exhausted grin.
"Celia, it's after midnight." Dean choked, his voice a bare rasped whisper, cracking and popping. "Officially 'tomorrow'. I want my present."
"Dean-"
"I earned it." Dean rasped out, his voice dying with every second as he sniffed and coughed hoarsely.
"Cain't it wait until later? Ya know after ya've had a few doses of Nyquil and its day light out."
"No. Now." Dean practically ordered, already pushing buttons on his key pad.
"What are ya doin'?"
"Sending a message to Sam to get out here." Dean coughed.
"Stop, let the boy be."
"Nope, we get our presents today, that was the deal we made."
"Alright, alright. Just let him sleep. I'll give it to him in the mornin'." Celia eased the load down between them, setting it on the cold earth.
Dean eyed her for a few seconds, then nodded approvingly, refraining from speaking when he didn't need to.
"Impatient brat." She muttered, then stepped around him towards the second to the last stall towards the door. It was empty, as far as Dean could see. Celia heaved a heavy sigh, as if defeated then unlocked and pushed open the stall door, stepping into the fresh, cedar bedding within. Dean followed, his curiosity perked.
"I said it wasn't done, it will be by the day of." Celia pulled a thin white sheet from one of two stands within the stall.
Dean's heart thudded sharply and he actually choked on his breath.
It was a tack set. A leather so dark red chocolate that it looked black. Silver wrapped around the edged of the skirt, cantle and horn, adding a small but still masculine flourish to the western trail saddle design. The saddle was padded with thick black fleece. A bridle and reins, breast collar and cinch all the same sleek design as the saddle, the same red chocolate leather, looped over the horn. There was also a sleek leather halter, linked together with silver, a silver name plate screwed into one side and a silver chained and leather lead clipped into place on the chin ring. The whole set was resting firmly on a thick black fleece horse pad.
"I haven't tooled in the designs yet." Celia muttered.
Dean started, twisting around to look at her with wide eyes.
"You…you made this?" Dean rasped, pointing at the full tack set.
Celia shrugged and nodded, her head ducked in the way she would cast her eyes down to hide a growing blush. "Ain't the first saddle I've built." She muttered.
"You built this saddle? By hand?" Dean whispered. Celia nodded.
"Yeah. It's on a raw hide tree, not one of those stupid plexi-glass ones." Dean stepped forward and started to circle the saddle, taking in each tiny detail with a new appreciation, picturing Celia bare handed, back aching, shaping and sewing each piece and part together, straining with chemicals and tools to make the curves and stitches. Dean stopped at the back of the saddle, his fingers tracing over a silver plate screwed into the skit marked with identification numbers and a maker's mark of a tiny horse silhouette and Celia's initials. His touch shirted up to the cantle, running over the letters tooled into the dark leather, spelling out his name full name. His real name.
Dean Winchester
"Bear leather, that's why is so dark colored, used burnished silver, tried to keep the design pretty simple, utility. Seein' as yer a simple soul. Not a lot of toolin' to do, just a little on the skirt and I gotta put yer name on the bridle, halter and other pieces. I make my saddle sets thief proof. Cain't strip off the leather without destroyin' the thing so it'll never leave the family unless ya let it go."
"You made this." Dean breathed again; it was starting to sink in, hand gliding over the stitched and cushioned seat.
"With Eli back I had some time to work on a couple of customs on back order so I thought might as, cain't dance. Ya know he didn't like havin' me on the range. Don't know why."
Dean did, he kept his mouth shut about Elijah's personally disclosed suspicions about Celia slowly but surely weakening, deteriorating…sickening. Elijah just wanted her to take it easy when she could, but Celia was stubborn and bullish. Dean had a feeling that it was just that he was sure was slowly killing her.
"You've made other saddles."
"Yeah. Five this year with these two. Pretty good for doin' it without machinery."
"You made a saddle for Sammy?"
Celia twisted and pulled a white sheet from the second stand, putting a seconds hand built saddle and tack set on display for Dean. This one the leather was smooth and rich tawny color. Accented carefully with much darker strips of leather for stitching and embossing here and there; silver trimmings again gracing the saddle carefully designed to refrain from being too feminine. Unlike the red chocolate saddle Sam's had already been completely tooled, designs carefully and artfully carved into the skirt and stirrups. A tribal, almost tattoo like design woven in with a carefully tooled pair of sitting beavers above a set of Winchester rifles, their barrels crossed like swords in a coat of arms.
"It's buck leather. I try to steer away from bull leather like everyone else. I find it kinds of warpable and weak. Buck, bear sometimes buffalo if ya tan it the right way." She seemed to be rambling, completely unsure of herself. She kept shifting her weight.
"I'm still having a hard time understanding that you actually made these." Dean said quietly, he lifted the breast collar of Sam's saddle set and examined the circle of silver that stood as a center link. The silver was embossed with the beavers and the crossed rifles.
"You made everything?" Dean rasped coughing between words. "Even the silver parts?"
"Well I bought the rings and links, the simple stuff, ya know, but the engravin' and designed pieces I had to go over to Catgut Steven's place and forage 'em."
"Goddamn, Celia." Dean stepped back over to his bear leather saddle and rested his hand on the horn. "This…its to much…you shouldn't-"
"I wanted to." Celia cut him off, clear finality in her voice and words. Dean didn't speak, just rubbing his hand back and for over the molded leather. He smiled at her.
"We w…" He choked, coughing hoarsely twice before he could continue, eyes slightly watering from the pain growing in his throat and upper chest. "…won't get much use out of them…"
Celia shrugged. "I make saddles to last a hundred years, y'all get time to use 'em…sides won't really need 'em for two or three years."
"Why two or…no Celia. No."
She shrugged and stepped out of the stall, Dean on her heels, still protesting around to the first stall. Celia unlatched the door and slid it open a slightly smug smile on her face the whole time, the blur roan mare behind the bars lifting her head and stepped back.
"Celia…" Dean sighed and broke down.
"Shut up, Dean. Already been decided. It's Eli's mare and he said they're yer colts. Its his doin' not mine."
Dean sighed, defeat in his voice, but the elder Winchester couldn't help the sheer feeling of excitement bubbling in his chest. He tried to stifle it.
"That's a Forty-Five Caliber mare, isn't it?"
"Ceasfire's half sister. Six Shooter, direct from Caliber." Celia assured. "She dropped twins and both of 'em turned out healthy."
Half hidden behind the blue roan, appaloosa mare's dark legs were two spindly colts. Barely two months old, legs to long, hooves to small and heads to big. They blinked large blue eyes out at him. Tiny blue rope halters tied around their heads. Their coats were identical, a mix of red fur mottled into blue roan coloring and spotted rump blankets of pure white. One colt, the smaller of the two, had a paler color to his fur, almost like he's been rolled in flour.
"They're pintaloosas."
Dean looked at her questioningly.
"Their sire was a paint horse. Don't know who, but that red fur and those blues eyes-"
"The Chieftain." Dean rasped.
Celia nodded.
The paler colored colt perked his ears at Dean's voice and with a high pitched whinny stepped cautiously towards him. The twin stayed back, pressed against Six Shooter. Dean instinctively held out a bare hand, letting the paler colt stretch to sniff and lick his fingers. Dean smiled.
The paler colt nickered, a shrill baby noise and stepped forward to press his nose into Dean's elbow, nipping the scarlet jacket before whirling and tripping back to hide with his brother behind Six Shooter.
"He's mine." Dean claimed the paler colt.
Celia chuckled quietly, tugged his arm and pulled him out of the stall, shutting the door behind them.
"Iceman it is."
"God, Chieftain-Caliber colts and hand made saddles."
"Yeah, ya boys are lucky bastards that we like ya."
Dean smiled but broke into a fit of coughing, rubbing the tears out of his eyes as they started back towards the open door. Out side the white blanketed world was getting a new coat, snow drifted down in fat, wet flakes, swirling lazily.
"Winter wonderland in Nevada." Dean muttered his eyes bleary as he was deep in thought.
"When yer feelin' better we can 'frolick and play', like in that song. 'Cept we'll do it the cowboy way." Celia snorted a small laugh at her personal joke. "Let's go get some sleep and ya can tease Sam over the breakfast table before he gets his half. Be careful manuverin' round that house, too. Genie's havin' a sleep over tonight." She bent to lift one side of the carved box, stopping when Dean held up his hand and slid his leather jacket out of the pile, dug into the pocket and slid out the white box.
"Here."
He held the box out and waited. Celia's eyes flicked to the white square in his hand up to his face. Dean looked at her expectantly as she carefully lifted the white box from his palm and gingerly opened it. Her breath caught and her eyes flew to his face.
"Dean."
His name was said with all the emotion that couldn't be put into words. She carefully lifted out a silver amulet, the fine link chain sliding through her fingers. She held the circular medallion between her fingers, running them over the embossed design. It was etched with an angel, sword in hand and crushing a wyvern under his boot and wings outstretched in victory. The Latin 'non tiembo mala' inscribed around the medal as well as the arch angel's title, also in Latin.
"Saint Michael." Celia breathed, holding the quarter sized circle very carefully. Saint Michael was the only archangel that all Hunters believed in. The general of God's army and the killer of Satan and his demons. The Hunters patron saint, along with police officers and soldiers. Feeling something on the back Celia turned it over. Etched in fine lettered was a simple inscription.
Love And Protection Always
Dean
"Sam helped me put every protective charm and spell on it we could think of." Dean's voice crackled, warning him that his was near the end of having something to speak with for a while.
"Dean."
"Just don't ever take it off…Please…"
Celia looked up into his pleading eyes then reached around to tug off her Stetson and wrapped her hair around her hand, lifting it. "Put it on."
Dean lifted the Saint Michael medallion from her hand, looping his around her neck and clicked the clasp into place. He stepped back ash she let her hair fall and toyed with the amulet.
"Celia, please-"
"I won't. Not if I can help it." She assured. Dean managed a small smile. Her eyes were locked on it, neck arched to see better. "Damn Dean…ya never get it wrong do ya?"
Her eyes went up to his face then flicked higher, her face immediately fell.
"Son of a-"
"What?" Dean followed her gaze up to the barn door ways above their heads. A sprig of bright green and white berries was tied with twine to the worn metal horseshoe nailed there for luck.
"Rosa.?" Dean asked, studying the mistletoe.
"Probably…" Celia said quietly, then looked back at him. "Rules are rules. Even if ya are sick."
Dean's eyebrows shot up as Celia lifted a hand to brace it along his jaw and with a little pressure guided Dean to a slight dip and pressed a kiss to his lips. Dean's eyes flicked shut, his heart thundering loudly behind his ribs and on pure instinct wrapped an arm around her back and pulled her forward, deepening the kiss. His blood boiled and firecrackers burst along his spine.
Celia allowed his advancement for a few seconds before breaking off, pulling back and leaving his lips stinging with the sudden cold that brushed across his face. Dean blinked tiredly at her, head titled into her palm; eyes glazed with the passed few seconds and the Influenza virus rushing through his systems, still trying to process everything correctly.
…
"Girls look!"
The group of five teenyboppers crushed in closer to the cold glass window and peered out through the falling snow and dark towards the stable. All of them dressed in their pajamas and chewing on stolen candy, up way to late for their own good.
"Dude, Genine." A frizzy red head muttered around a mouth full of peanut brittle. "You're sister is kissin' Santa Claus."
Imogene bit her lip and looked out towards the silhouettes at the stable door way.
"Yeah, so!"
"Genie. Santa Clause is like nine hundred years old."
The girls were all silent for a second, picturing mentally what had just been stated. Before they all groaned and moaned like they were going to be ill.
"Hey!"
The five girls scrambled, scattering at the bark of Sam's voice, racing up the steps and slamming the door shut with a chorus of whispering and giggling. Sam shook his head, grinning before glancing out the window, his eyes lighting on his brother and Celia, their foreheads pressed together and Dean holding tightly to Celia's frame.
Sam smiled before snatching up a forgotten cookie and stuffing it whole into his mouth and dropped the curtain.
Happy Holidays!