Author's Chapter Notes:

A little side note, the title of this one comes from a Dave Matthews Band song of the same title, you can find it on the Stand Up album...this song just always melts my heart and I have no doubt that its made Sara's playlist as well.

A big thanks goes out to Fredo for her beta work, and to Dagmar for consistantly nagging me for the past so many months. Enjoy ladies - Kel ;)

Chapter 1

'Have yourself a merry little Christmas

Let your heart be bright

From now on our troubles will be out of sight

Have yourself a merry little Christmas

Make the yuletide gay

From now on our troubles will be miles away

Here we are as in olden days, happy golden days of yore

Faithful friends who are dear to us, gather near to us, once more

Through the years we all will be together

If the fates allow

Hang a shining star upon the highest bough

And have yourself a merry little Christmas now'

December 5, 1978

Stephen Morris reached up and brushed away the tear that slipped down his cheek. Though he hated himself for his lack of control, he really couldn't help it. Every time he heard Rosemary Clooney's heartfelt version of Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas, the waterworks started.

Unsure if it was Clooney's delivery or the fact the song represented family and appreciating what you had in the moment, he only knew it killed him every time. What made matters worse was with less than three weeks until Christmas, he was bombarded with the damn song every time he turned on the radio.

With a sigh, Stephen took his eyes off the black stretch of macadam before him and glanced toward the empty passenger seat of his Plymouth Horizon. If he was honest he'd admit the reason the song, and hell this holiday in general, left him feeling hollow was because he was facing it all alone. Christmas was only ever merry to those that had someone to share it with. Otherwise, it was a nightmare of loneliness made even worse by other people's shining happiness.

It didn't help that it had been four years, four years of mind-numbing loneliness, nearly to the day since he'd lost his sweet Caroline.

"No more pity," he chided himself as he reached out and pressed the cassette that sat in his radio back into the player. As Bob Seger began to sing about making it with a girl in the backseat of his Chevy, Stephen forced himself to focus on the music. He was done wallowing in pity. That was why he now found himself in the car, with his every belonging stuffed into the back, heading north.

Caroline was gone, it was something that had taken him a long time to admit. That being said, now that he had, he refused to fall back on the memories that he'd once held close. Maybe someday, when he'd replaced the aching sadness with something else, he'd be able to look back on Caro's short and all too tragic life and rejoice for the time they'd had together. Today wouldn't be that day. Today he needed to turn his back on the love of his life and face his uncertain future. She would have expected no less from him.

As Night Moves morphed into The Fire Down Below, Stephen felt the tension in his chest ease slightly. The thought that he was making this move as much for Caroline as for himself is one that had helped him through many a night for the past few weeks. For too long he'd ignored what she would have wanted for him, and had instead allowed himself to sink in oblivion.

"No more," he stated firmly as he maneuvered the vehicle through the falling twilight.

New town, new job and a new place to live, it wasn't much of a life, but it was a start. A start that was sure to help him return to the land of the living. He couldn't help but enjoy the surge of empowerment that washed through him at the idea that good or bad, 1979 was bound to be different.

That was his last coherent thought as he heard a sudden bang and the wheel in his hand jerked out of his grasp. Given the high mountain road he'd been traveling on and the speed with which he was moving, he never had a chance.

888

December 4, 2008

Sam watched as his brother cut his way through the crowded bar, a beer bottle gripped in each hand.

Once by his side the older hunter offered one to Sam before dropping down onto the hard wooden chair with a grin. Gesturing grandly, his sibling tipped the chair back on two legs and said, "Now, see. This is living."

He raised one dark brow at Dean's declaration and took an exaggerated look around the dive they were currently in. "Really?"

With an enthusiastic nod, the green-eyed hunter slammed his hand down on the somewhat sticky tabletop and crowed, "Damn straight. Just you and me, guys in a guys bar. No My Pretty Pony or Strawberry Shortcake, no third grade homework, and no one arguing the merits of Transformers Animated versus Ben10."

Sam shrugged as his brother's rant wound down. "I like Ben10, that watch thing he's got going is pretty cool."

Dean's chair thumped down onto four legs as he leaned forward and agreed, "Better than that Transformers Animated crap. I mean, what the hell, Optimus doesn't even look like Optimus. It's like some freaky watered down version."

Careful to hide all signs of laughter, Sam nodded gravely. "Yeah, it's nothing compared to the old Transformers cartoons."

Using his beer to emphasis his words, Dean agreed, "My point exactly."

With a shake of his shaggy head, Sam finally allowed his amusement to bubble to the surface. "So this is why you drug me here instead of hitting the road for home. You wanted to debate the merits of the different Transformers."

"No," Dean growled as he swigged his beer. "Do you even listen to me. My point was..."

"Yeah?" Sam prompted.

"It was..."

"We're...men?"

"Exactly, we're men. And this is where we belong. Some seedy dive in the middle of nowhere, filled with bikers that would just as soon slit our throats as say hello. It's perfect."

Dean's ramble to convince Sam that they were having fun really wasn't a first. He'd come to realize the more his brother missed Sara and her kids the more he sought to pretend he didn't.

Normally, the Winchesters tried to get back to the house at the very least every two weeks for a couple days of downtime. However, due to a hunt that had taken longer than expected and a book tour that Sara had scheduled months ago, Dean and the widow hadn't seen each other in three weeks. Sam wasn't sure how Sara was faring but it was obvious the imposed separation was starting to wear on his brother.

Dean's insistence that they spend their last night of 'freedom' at some crap bar on the edge of a crappier town had simply been his brother's way of making a point. The lie would have been more believable if the older hunter didn't spend a large portion of his somewhat limited free-time talking to and about the Powers family. It was obvious Dean was trying too hard, but really who was Sam to point it out. The green-eyed hunter would come to the same conclusion sooner rather than later and they'd finally be able to get back on the road where they belonged.

Keeping an eye peeled for trouble from the rest of the 'men' that filled the bar, Sam continued to nurse his beer. He could hear Dean idly tapping his fingers against the wooden tabletop and he braced himself for an interruption. Dean didn't do bored well.

"Wanna throw some darts?"

Determined to let his sibling take the lead, Sam shrugged and set down his now empty bottle. "I'm game."

"Good," Dean said with a broad smile as he downed the remainder of his own beer.

"Good," Sam echoed gesturing toward the dartboard that rested against the nearest wall.

Dean stepped forward and pulled the darts from the board. "This is exactly what we needed, you know, no women, no kids just us," he said as he handed Sam his.

Sam waved at his brother to go first and added, "Being men."

"Right, being men." With a nod, Dean stepped up and drew back his arm.

Never one to back down from a challenge, even with something as simple as a game of darts, Sam focused on the board. Though he was good, scary good if one was to ask any of the guys he'd gone to college with, his ability didn't quite match his brother's. He was gonna need every bit of his skill and possibly some luck if he wanted to hold his own tonight.

With his focus centered on the board, it took a moment for him to realize that the other hunter had yet to take the shot. A glance over at the older man was enough to make Sam forget all about the competition.

Dean stood, poised to throw. Only instead of tossing the dart, he was staring blankly at the target.

"Dean?" Sam questioned with a faint grin.

With a shake of his head, Dean's expression cleared and he focused on Sam. "What?"

"You...a...plannin' on taking a shot anytime today?"

Despite the dim light of the bar, Sam swore he saw a faint blush crawling its way up his brother's cheeks as his big brother gestured toward the board, "I'm lining up my shot."

"Sure you are," Sam agreed with a broad smile. He had to admit watching Dean make an ass of himself was way more fun than any game.

Just then the leggy blond who'd served them their first round returned to the table with two more beers. The blue-eyed woman sized up both men, her glance lingering on Sam as she purred, "Can I get you boys anything else?"

Dean turned toward him and waggled one brow. "How about it, Sammy? You need anything else?"

Sam didn't miss his brothers pointed comment, but he refused to rise to the bait. "I'm good."

With a roll of his eyes, Dean turned back to the waitress, with tip in hand, and smiled. "Seems like we're good."

Not put off by his brother's dismissal, the blonde smiled and said, "Let me know if you change your mind."

With a nod, Dean assured her, "Will do."

"See what you missed out on, Sam," the older hunter teased as he gestured with his beer toward the bar where the blond now stood.

More than used to his brother's teasing, Sam ignored his words and gestured toward the board. "You think you're ready to toss that thing yet?"

Dean glanced toward the dart in his hand almost in surprise. "Yeah, guess I am."

"Don't sound so excited, dude," Sam joked as he took a drink.

"I'm excited!" Dean insisted, "I've been looking forward to this all week. Hanging out, beer in hand, playin' darts in some hole in the wall. It's just what I wanted."

Ready to throw his brother a lifeline, Sam offered, "You know, we leave now we'll be home by morning."

This time Dean's complete focus swung toward Sam. "What? Give up on our night out?"

"You really want all this?" Sam asked as he gestured to the surrounding bar. With a glance at his watch he continued, "We leave now, we'll get in before her plane lands."

Before Sam realized what was happening his brother had deposited his bottle back on the table and had grabbed up his coat.

"Let's go, Sammy boy, time's wastin'."

"So much for boys night out," Sam snorted as he watched his brother head for the double doors leading out to the parking lot. Glad to be heading home at last, Sam gathered up his own gear and followed him out into the cold night air.

888

"Come on, Sara, we're only gonna have a couple drinks. Then it's straight to bed, you'll have plenty of time to pack for your flight."

Sara drew in a deep breath and turned to smile at her agent. "Thanks, Janey, but I'm done in. I've got a phone call to make and then it's off to bed."

"Oh, come on. You're free for once and if anyone deserves a night out, it's you," the diminutive redhead insisted. "You've worked your ass off this week, have a little fun for once."

Sara had to admit, her agent was right in a lot of ways. The last week had been filled with stress as she'd traveled extensively for a publicity tour to promote her latest book. The novel had been well received but that didn't make the endless autograph sessions and meet and greets any easier.

She did deserve a night of fun. Problem was, tired beyond belief and stressed out over the constant traveling and mugging for fans, the last thing she wanted was to hang out in some high-end bar, surrounded by strangers and sipping cosmopolitans.

What she really wanted was a hot shower, a bit of room service and a chance to make a long overdue phone call. "Sorry, Jane, I'm gonna have to go with a rain check. I'm just not up to it"

Jane sighed dramatically as they came to the bank of hotel elevators. "Fine, killjoy, I'm gonna go celebrate without you."

Sara smiled and hugged the slighter girl tightly. "You do that,"

Happy to have escaped what she would have considered torture, Sara quickly punched the call button for the elevator and asked, "What time's your flight?"

Janey blew her heavy bangs out of her eyes and groaned, "I'm out on the six o'clock. You?"

"Not quite so bad," Sara said as the gleaming silver doors slid open, "I'm out at eight."

"Okay, well safe flight and call me this week. I want an update on Creed."

With a groan, Sara nodded and stepped into the elevator. "Will do," she called out with a wave to her friend.

Jane's not so subtle reminder about Creed only made Sara more sure that she'd done the right thing by calling it an early night. Despite the fact that she'd been on a publicity tour for the last week she'd still managed to get a good bit of work done. By calling it an early night, she might even manage another chapter before sleep overcame her.

Despite what other people might choose to think, her writing wasn't just a creative outlet, it was also a job. The fact that she'd found success was a bonus that she never took for granted. With bills to pay and mouths to feed, she never allowed herself to become complacent.

As the doors slid open once more, depositing her on her floor, Sara's thoughts turned to the phone in her hand. A glance at the screen showed that she'd received a text message not more than an hour ago. With a smile, she scrolled down to the message and began to read.

"Ms. Powers!"

"Ms. Powers!"

The sound of her name being shouted down the length of the corridor had Sara looking up in confusion.

A young man, dressed in a hotel uniform, was baring down on her with a kind of grim determination. In his hand he held a hardback book that looked suspiciously familiar. If she didn't know better she would have guessed the kid had been lying in wait for her.

Not wanting to wake the neighbors, she stood her ground and waited for the man to reach her. Already sure of what was coming, she glanced back down to the message on her phone. 'We're on our way', she read. Though the text was short and to the point, Sara couldn't help but feel a thrill.

It had been too long, nearly three weeks since she'd last seen him. Though it wasn't the longest they'd ever been apart, it was the limit of what she knew she could stand. If he hadn't been on his way home, she would have arranged to meet him on the road. Even just a short visit in some backwater town would have been preferable to the ache that had taken up residence in her heart.

"I'm sorry to bother you, ma'am, but do you think you could sign this for me? You're my favorite author."

Sara snapped back to the present and wiped the silly grin off her face. "I'd be happy to. What's your name?"

The guy swallowed loudly and replied, "It's Peter. I am your biggest fan."

Her biggest fan, like she hadn't heard that one a million times this week. "Thanks, Peter," she said as she quickly signed the inside of the book. Hoping to keep this short, she smiled and handed the novel back to him. "Here you go. Glad you've enjoyed it."

Peter smiled and nodded up and down several times. "I loved it. I mean I can't believe the stuff you come up with. That flesh eating clown completely freaked me out."

Confident that Peter was better off not knowing that the clown in her book had actually existed, Sara merely grinned. "Glad you dug it." Anxious to make her call, she smiled once more and turned to go. "Nice meeting you, Peter."

"Wait!"

With her back to the bellhop, and her room now in sight, Sara nearly cursed at the young man's call. Knowing she was well and truly caught, she turned and asked, "Yes?"

The bellhop gulped once more and took a couple deep breaths before at last asking, "Would you want to go get a drink or something. I would so love to talk to you about your work."

Sara stared at the kid, who had to be nearly fifteen years her junior, in surprise. "Um, I'm sorry, but, it's been a really long day and my flight leaves early."

Peter's face flushed with embarrassment as he stammered, "Oh...sure....yeah. I mean sure."

"I appreciate the offer though," she replied, not wanting to hurt the kid's feelings.

Peter seemed to breathe a bit easier at her words. "No worry."

Now more than ready to make her escape, Sara turned toward her room once more.

"Wait!"

"Damn," she cursed unable to help herself. She only hoped the kid hadn't heard it. Slowly turning to face him she asked, "Yeah?"

"Did you need a wake up call? For your flight?"

Tension leaked out of Sara's shoulders as she shot the young man a genuine smile. "That'd be great. If you could make it for five-thirty."

Peter smiled importantly and lifted one hand in acknowledgement. "Will do."

"Thanks," she said as she turned and practically raced down the hallway toward her room. With one last smile at Peter who stood where she'd left him, Sara maneuvered the key card and swung open the door.

Afraid she was about to be called back, she ducked inside and quickly shut the door, throwing the deadbolt on to be sure. Alone at last she double-checked the salt lines that lay in front of the door and windows. Satisfied they remained unbroken, she set about packing the last of her belongings.

888

Sara collapsed onto the bright white counterpane adorning the hotel bed with a sigh of contentment. After packing all but a few necessities, she'd treated herself to an hour long bath complete with oils and her I-pod. It had been nothing short of heaven. As a widowed mother of three young children uninterrupted time was hard if not impossible to find. What little time she did manage to carve out for herself was usually spent working.

Though she missed her kids with a fierce ache that seemed to live in her chest, she also relished the time alone. As her gaze drifted toward the cell phone clutched in her hand she couldn't help but think how much more she'd appreciate the alone time if she wasn't quite so alone.

Ready to indulge herself once more, Sara hit the familiar speed dial button and listened to the steady ring.

"'lo"

"Hey,"

"Hey, there," Dean replied in a quiet voice.

The sound washed over Sara teasing out the last bit of tension in her body. Their daily phone call had become a habit that she depended on. "I got your text. I thought you and Sammy boy were gonna do the bar scene tonight. Relax a bit before hitting the road."

Dean chuckled then admitted, "Yeah, well beer and stale peanuts in some biker bar just didn't seem quite as exciting as it used to."

This time it was Sara who laughed. "That right...hm... I don't know, sounds a bit like you're growing up, Winchester."

"Naw," Dean insisted with a little growl. "I've just got other things on my mind."

The throaty growl had Sara curling her toes in response as she replied, "Other things, huh?"

"Yup, I'll go into more detail when I see you tomorrow."

"I'll hold you to that," she teased. "You know I spoke to the kids tonight. They asked to spend one more night at my mom's."

This time there was nothing lazy about Dean's reply. "You mean we'll be alone tomorrow night?"

With a smile she couldn't seem to stop, Sara confirmed, "Yup," With her words she could have sworn she heard the guttural growl of the Impala speeding up. "You know going mach speed won't get me home any sooner."

Dean's sexy chuckle confirmed her suspicions. "Maybe not, but I'd rather be at your place waiting then risk losing even one minute with you."

Satisfied they'd be together sooner than later, Sara snuggled deeper into the bed.

As if he'd heard her movements, Dean asked, "What are you doing?"

"Just getting tucked in. I'm wiped."

"You double checked the salt lines?"

Happy to have someone to fuss over her for a change, Sara reassured him, "Yup, I'm locked down for the night."

"And tomorrow, you have protection for the plane?"

Okay, so maybe someone fussing wasn't quite so endearing. "I'm a big girl, Dean. I can manage a plane ride home."

"Yeah, well I don't want you to risk anything. You're like a damn magnet for trouble."

Irritation surged through Sara at his insinuation. "Me! That's a bit like the pot calling the kettle black, don't you think?"

Dean's voice rose as he insisted, "I'm not the one that keeps getting kidnapped."

"Argh," Sara growled as she sat up, her earlier warm and fuzzy feelings completely gone. "Are you kidding me? Gordon was human so he doesn't count, and how was I to know Greg was some kind of Peruvian Vampire."

"You let him into your life, Sara, should'a been your first clue that he was trouble."

With his words, every bit of Sara's anger deflated. Slumping back down on the bed she asked, "Are you insinuating I've got bad taste in men, Dean, cause I'd like to remind you, you had more interest in Greg than I did."

"Is that right?" the younger man asked in a low voice.

"Yeah, you stubborn ass." Time and time again, Sara had tried to convince the hunter that he was the only man since her husband was killed that had come close to touching her heart. She had little doubt it was their enforced time apart that was causing the younger man's sudden doubts. She'd learned when it came to Dean words only went so far. Tomorrow, she would just have to let her actions do the talking.

"So?"

"So?" Sara echoed as she snuggled under the covers once more.

"What are you wearing?"

With a grin, she replied, "Don't you think you should keep your mind on the road and out of the gutter?"

"Come on," Dean cajoled, "I need something to keep me awake."

More than happy to drop the serious stuff until they were face to face, Sara played along. "hm...well I'm wearing the tiniest pair of black silk panties and a sheer black silk camisole."

"Will that do?" she asked after a long pause.

"Definitely fantasy worthy," the sound of Dean's husky voice curled down her spine infusing her with heat.

"Happy to oblige."

"Happy to lie, you mean," he laughed. "The reality is you're probably curled up on one side of that big bed in a pair of wool socks, jogging pants and one of my old tees."

Sara couldn't help but laugh, he knew her all to well. "Well, I'm cold."

"You can bet you wouldn't be cold if I was there."

"I have to admit, if you were here there'd be a lot less layers."

"Guh," Dean groaned at the image. "You don't know how much I wish I was."

Sara's laugh was equally shaky. "It's been three weeks, Dean, trust me I understand."

"We'll be there early," Dean promised. "When's your flight get in?"

"It's an eight o'clock takeoff and a three hour flight."

"Good. You need me to pick you up?"

Sara rolled over and flipped off the lamp that sat next to the bed. "I left the van at the airport. I'm good. There's no food in the house, though, you boys'll have to fend for yourselves for a bit."

Dean's low laugh had Sara smiling in response. "Fend for ourselves, huh? I think we can manage."

As her sleep heavy eyes slipped shut, Sara mumbled, "Yeah, but you shouldn't have to."

"Alright, well, I'm gonna put some miles under us. I'll see you soon."

"Soon," Sara mumbled as she hit the end button and dropped the phone to the bed next to her. Drifting off, thoughts of Dean keeping her warm, Sara was asleep in minutes.

TBC