Life in a Box
Disclaimer: I still don't own them and no disrespect is intended.
A/N: Before Christmas I posted a story called The Best Gift Ever. This is a prequel to that story.
oooOOOooo
A moment lasts all of a second, but the memory lives on forever.
-Unknown-
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Winter hadn't yet caught hold in upstate New York, but it was cold enough for John Winchester. He got out of his truck and looked around, hands in his pockets. It was early on a Tuesday morning and it appeared that he was alone. He quickly approached the storage unit and twisted a key in the lock before pushing open the door.
He kept a large, battery operated lantern near the door. Once it was lit, he closed the door and turned to face the room. Holding the lantern high, he cast a trained eye over everything. There was a thick layer of dust over the shelves and their contents, but he didn't care. Anything that had any value to him was carefully packed and protected.
Sure that nothing had been disturbed, John made his way to the curse boxes, constructed for him by Bobby Singer years before. Every one of them contained a cursed or evil item that should never have seen the light of day in the first place. The boxes were to make sure they never would again. Whether currently in use or not, each was locked in a conventional way as well as with protective symbols.
John opened one of the boxes that he knew to be empty and carefully removed a package from his coat pocket. The package held a cursed rabbit's foot, cut off a rabbit while in a cemetery under a full moon on a Friday the 13th. He had been careful not to touch the rabbit's foot when he took ownership of it. It gave its owner exceedingly good luck, but once lost, would cause very bad luck usually ending in death within a few days. He assumed there must be a way to destroy the foot, but he had other things to concentrate on and he knew it would be safe in the curse box.
Once the foot was in its new home, John secured the box with a new lock. It already had the appropriate symbols drawn on it. He replaced the box next to the others on the shelf and took another look around the storage unit. He didn't come here often and each time he told himself it would be a quick trip in and out. It never was.
The storage unit didn't just hold supernatural items and weapons. It also held the family mementoes normally kept in a home. A home was a luxury John Winchester didn't have; not since his wife was killed and their house destroyed over 20 years before. He didn't know what he was looking for; probably nothing. He just wanted to spend a few minutes with his things.
Picking an unlabeled cardboard box mostly at random, John moved it to the floor and crouched in front of it. He had no idea what he'd find inside, but when he opened the box, he smiled.
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"Are you happy?"
John looked at his wife and put an arm around her shoulders. She leaned against him and he kissed the top of her head.
"I am. Are you still nervous?"
"It's a big commitment, John, but I have faith in you."
Hearing voices behind them, the couple turned.
"No celebrating without us!"
John took a step away from Mary and held out his hand. "How ya doin', partner?"
Mike shook his hand. "About the same as you, I expect."
John smiled at his business partner his wife and a few minutes later, the two couples were inside.
A few hours before, the sale of the garage had become official and they were the new owners. Their decision to buy had not been made quickly. John was a great mechanic, but he had no particular business skills and Mike was just the opposite. He was a CPA who had advised the former owner and handled all the real accounting work.
John and Mike had been acquaintances, but not friends. They were brought together by the former owner who had insisted they would make a great team and it had taken him nearly four months to get them to even consider the possibility.
After a quick look around, Mike opened a bottle of champagne and filled four glasses.
"To us," he smiled and held up his glass. The others followed his example and after clinking the glasses together, each took a sip.
For the next half hour, the men talked about their plans for the garage while their wives primarily nodded and smiled. They were supportive of the decision to buy and just as excited as their husbands, but knew that their input wasn't necessary at the moment.
It was a short celebration because John and Mary needed to get home to their three year old son, but the festivities would be continuing the next day when the four of them went to dinner with the former owner and his wife.
-----
"Daddy!"
John dropped the bag he was carrying and bent down to sweep Dean into his arms as the little boy ran toward him. He was always afraid that Dean would trip on his way off of the porch, but he'd been greeting his dad just this way from almost the time he could walk and he'd never gotten so much as a scrape.
"Mommy says you're late," Dean said.
John looked toward the porch where Mary stood. Her arms were crossed over her chest, but she didn't look angry. He grabbed the shopping bag from the ground and walked toward the house with Dean in his arms.
"What did you buy?" Dean asked.
"Nothing; I brought home some work from the garage."
"Can I help?"
"Not this time, champ." John said, knowing that Dean wouldn't push.
Dean rested his head on John's shoulder and yawned. The garage closed two hours before, but he'd stayed late so that he and Mike could talk about some money matters and he had to make a stop on his way home. It was almost Dean's bed time; he was already in his pajamas and he smelled like soap.
"I didn't mean to be so late," John apologized and kissed Mary gently.
"It's okay," she smiled at him and they walked inside together.
"Looks like you're ready for bed," John said to Dean.
"I'm not tired," he said through another yawn.
"How about I tuck you in and read you a story?" John asked. He dropped the bag on the couch as he walked past it.
"Can you read more of my new book?"
"Sure."
Mary went upstairs with them, but after making sure Dean had his favorite teddy bear and a kiss to his forehead, she left her men to their nightly ritual.
-----
It didn't take long for Dean to fall asleep; John had barely begun to read before the little boy's eyes fluttered shut. John found Mary in the living room, sitting in her favorite chair reading a book. He stood across the room and watched her, a warm feeling overtaking him. There was a fire in the fire place and the Christmas tree was lit; it was a perfect scene.
"How long have you been standing there?" she asked when she noticed him, a slightly startled expression on her face.
"Just a couple minutes."
She nodded toward the couch. "I'm guessing that isn't really something from work and since it supposedly came from the hardware store, it better not be my Christmas gift."
John sat on the end of the couch closest to Mary's chair. "It's for Dean."
"We already got his presents."
John reached for the bag and handed it to Mary. She looked inside it and then back to John.
"It's a tool kit," he took the case and opened it, then handed it back to her.
She ran her hand over some of the tools. "These are real."
"Yeah," he grinned. "Everything a junior mechanic needs."
"Honey, you can't give real tools to a three year old. He's too little."
"I don't expect him to be able to use them," John said, trying to hide his disappointment. "I just wanted to, I don't know, commemorate buying the garage with tools for my son. It's been an exciting four months and I hope he wants to work with me when he's old enough."
Mary smiled at him. "I understand that, but what are you going to do? Give him the tools and then take them away?"
"He'll have so many toys to play with he won't even notice."
Mary looked unconvinced.
"Please, Mary? I promise I'll take care of any fall-out, but I really don't think there will be any."
"All right," she sighed. "You can give him the tools."
John smiled. "Thanks, babe."
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"Mommy! Daddy!" Dean barreled into his parents' room early on Christmas morning. "Santa was here!"
He scrambled onto the bed as John and Mary moved to give him room.
"What time is it?" Mary asked, rubbing her eyes.
John looked at the bedside clock. "Just before six."
"Dean, we had a deal," she said. "The little hand was supposed –"
"It is, Mommy!" he insisted, holding out the wrist that held the watch she'd given him. "See?"
John smiled to himself as Mary blinked at the watch.
"Okay, champ," he said, sitting up and pulling his son onto his lap. "How about we give Mommy a few minutes to wake up? Let's go back to your room and get your robe and slippers. It's cold this morning."
"But the presents!"
"They aren't going anywhere," John said, tickling the boy until he scampered away.
"I'll meet you downstairs," Mary said as John grabbed Dean and carried the boy out of the room.
John dressed Dean warmly, turned up the heat in the house and put on coffee before Mary got downstairs. They settled around the Christmas tree and Mary engaged Dean's help in passing out the gifts. He complied even though he clearly was ready to rip into his packages.
Half an hour later and with wrapping paper littering the room, all the gifts were opened. Dean had spent a few minutes with each item before moving onto the next, but he was enamored with the tools. He sat next to John as he explained what each one was called and what it was used for while Mary saw to breakfast.
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They were expected for an early dinner and more present opening at John's parents' house early that afternoon. John managed to get Dean into bed for a nap, but it didn't last long. Dean happily played with his new toys while John and Mary put the finishing touches on the food they were taking, but he insisted on helping to load the car.
"I'm gonna change real quick," Mary told John. "Can you keep an eye on Dean for me?"
"Yeah, no problem."
"Maybe straighten the living room? Again?"
He smiled. "It's a lost cause, you know."
"Work with me here," she laughed.
John wrapped his arms around Mary. "It's been a good day so far."
"It has," she agreed and kissed him. "But you shouldn't have spent money on this necklace. I love it, though."
"It looks nice on you," he said, admiring the small diamond pendant. "Some day I'll be able to get you a bigger one."
"John, you don't have to buy me expensive presents. I love you already."
John kissed her again. "I love you, too."
After a few moments, Mary headed up the stairs and John walked into the living room. Dean was on the floor, surrounding by toys and the toy kit was between his legs. They'd already taken a lot of pictures, but John grabbed the camera for one more.
"What do you say we get all this stuff under the tree?" he asked, putting the camera next to his car keys on the coffee table. "Mommy will be ready to go in just a few minutes."
"Okay," Dean said. "Daddy?"
"Yeah?"
"When will you teach me to use my tools?"
"Well," John said as he began to clean up. "Remember I said those are big boy tools. We're gonna have to put them away for a little while; until you're big enough to use them."
Dean looked disappointed.
"But you have a lot of neat stuff to play with until then," John said.
"Yeah," the little boy said, looking longingly at the tool kit.
"You gonna help me?" John smiled at him.
"Okay," Dean stood up and a few minutes later, the room was passably clean and Dean turned his attention back to the tools.
"Tell me what they are again, Daddy."
John sat down on the floor next to him and pulled the little boy onto his lap. "How about we name them together?"
Dean didn't know the names for all the tools, but he surprised John by remembering many of them. John's attention was diverted by Mary calling him and he didn't notice that Dean picked up one of the ratchets. He lifted Dean to move him from his lap and it slipped from Dean's small hand, hitting the side of John's face as it fell.
The pain was instant, but not horrible and John's hand immediately moved to his face. His fingers came away with a few spots of blood on them. Dean saw it and his lips began to tremble, tears already forming in his eyes.
"It's okay," John said quickly even though he was in pain. "It was an accident, right?"
"Yes, Daddy."
"That's why these are big boy tools," John said as Mary called for him again. "How about we put them away now?"
Dean nodded, looking miserable.
"I'll be right there, Mary," John hollered and he pulled the little boy closer. "I'm not mad, okay?"
Dean nodded again, his head resting against his dad's chest.
"How about you pick out one of your new toys to take to Grandma and Grandpa's and I'll go see what Mommy needs."
"Okay."
John hugged him tightly, then swatted his behind gently to push him toward the tree. He took the tool kit upstairs with him.
"John!" Mary covered her mouth with her hand when she saw him come into the bedroom. "What happened?"
"I guess you were right about the tools," he smiled wanly and walked into the bathroom.
"Let me see," Mary said as she pushed her way into the room.
There was a cut under an eye that was now bleeding freely. John turned on the water while Mary got a few things from the medicine cabinet.
"I hate to say I told you so," she said with a twinkle in her eye when John glanced at her.
"Then don't," John grumbled wringing out the wash cloth and dabbing the cut. "It was an accident."
Mary took it from him and cleaned the wound before putting antibiotic cream in it and covering it with a small bandage. "I think you'll live."
"Dean looked really sad when it happened," he said. "I told him he could bring one of his new toys to my parents' house."
"Yeah, because they won't have enough for him," she laughed, putting away the supplies.
"What did you need?" John asked.
"Oh, I forgot I'd called you. I want to wear one of the pair of shoes I asked you put up on the shelf in the closet, but I can't reach them."
"I should build you something for your shoes," John said moving toward the closet. "Like another bedroom."
"Very funny," she scoffed.
-----
A week later the cut was nearly healed, but there was still a bruise under John's eye. After a few days, Mary had gotten tired of teasing him and he took quite a bit of ribbing at the garage, but Dean seemed to forget about the incident pretty quickly despite the evidence that it had happened.
The tools stayed put away and with so many other things to play with, Dean forgot all about them. He got even more new things to distract him the following month on his fourth birthday.
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John had gone through the entire box and found the unused tool kit at the bottom. He'd not been able to salvage much from the old house after the fire, but the few things from that time along with mementoes gathered throughout his sons' childhoods were in this storage room. He knew there were pictures of that Christmas somewhere, but he didn't have time to look for them.
He unconsciously moved his hand to the scar still visible under his eye and he smiled to himself again. That had been such a good Christmas; the last one they celebrated before Mary died. John thought about taking the tools with him, but he had enough in his truck and these were Dean's. Some day Dean would have them again.
Everything put back into the box, John closed it up and reached for the pen he knew to be in his shirt pocket. He wrote Dean's stuff on the side of the box and put it back where it belonged.
Fin