Face to face we stood. I was shocked, speechless, while he was guilty and standing in my doorway or should I say swaying in my doorway.
He was about to fall over, get up and then fall over again.
He reeked of eggnog, shaving cream and booze and he was a little too close for comfort.
"Marry Christmas, Jo."
Sam Winchester, not Dean, never Dean, fell into my arms.
He wasn't as heavy as Dean, but it still took all of my strength to pull him to the empty bed (hmm…maybe I should leave him in the street?).
'Marry Christmas, Joanna.'
I opened gifts while he slept it off (it being the something I had never seen him do in my whole time with him), clean clothes from Ellen, a trusty knife from Bobby, and a Winchester all wrapped in vomit.
He woke screaming names, Jessica, Dean, Dad and Mom.
"Good you're up, now you can leave. Take your eggnog with you."
If it was Dean, drunk and at my front door I would bring him in, steal the only kisses I'll ever have, and watch him leave again, but Sam wasn't Dean.
"I'm sorry, I don't know why I came here, and heck I don't remember most of what I did."
Then he did it, puppy dog eyes all full of guilt and sadness (how much of sucker am I?).
"Sam, sit your butt down your staying."
"Umm…ok, I think I'll do that."