A/N: I don't even know. I hope you all like it lol. Takes place post-'The Sound of Silence.' I'm not usually that into fluff, but… This just happened.
Disclaimer: I only own my OCs.
A Winchester Family Christmas: I
December 20, 2014
"Hey, Sammy… I got a question for you…"
"Shoot," the younger Winchester says without looking up.
"You… You still have Mom's ring, right?"
Sam straightens and tears his eyes off of his issue of Time, only to see his brother standing awkwardly in the doorway with an enigmatic look stretched across his features.
He folds the magazine. "Yeah, why?" Dean's lip twitches, and realization surges over him like a flash flood. His eyebrows lift, and he smiles so broadly that his dimples fold into harsh lines. "You're-you're gonna ask Claire-"
Dean shushes him almost violently, pressing his index finger to his lips. He drifts further into the room and closes the door behind him.
Taking his voice down a decibel, Sam persists, "You're gonna ask Claire to marry you?"
He shrugs, like it's no big deal. "I mean, it's been a while since we closed the Gates, and Mary's two… Pretty soon she's gonna start askin' questions…"
Sam doesn't share his cavalier attitude. "Dude, how long have you been planning this?"
"You know me, Sammy-boy. Not too big on plannin'. I'm more of a seat-of-my-pants kinda guy," he says with a crooked grin, nevertheless shifting uncomfortably under his brother's mawkish gaze. He wishes he would stop looking at him with such unchecked admiration.
Just as he predicted (and intended), Sam's expression changes upon hearing this. He narrows his eyes, pressuring his older sibling into a genuine answer.
With an exasperated scoff, Dean elaborates, "A while, okay? Sheesh I dunno – it's been in the back of my mind since before Purgatory, even. But we never had time for that crap – not until now, at least."
There's a pause, during which time Sam starts to rifle through his desk drawers.
"You don't mind, do you?" the elder Winchester says to fill the lull, as though it had only just occurred to him that he might. In reality, he'd been warring with the idea of asking him for over a month. Sam has the ring… Sam has the ring because he was going to give it to Jess. This in and of itself makes Dean's heart twinge, because he's taking something away from his brother, he's taking away that memory, that opportunity, he's reminding him of all he's lost.
"Of course not," he says easily, without missing a beat. His hazel eyes are hidden as he searches, but Dean doesn't need to see them to know he's sincere.
And why wouldn't he be? He likes Claire almost as much as he does. What Dean is feeling is only the byproduct of his self-destructive, ceaseless ability to blame himself for everything that has ever gone wrong in their lives.
Sam dusts off the small, black velvet box before offering it to his brother. He's still smiling unyieldingly.
"Good luck, man," he says.
He holds the innocuous box in his hand, testing it. The fabric feels foreign against his skin, the weight deceptive – it carries with it so more than can be perceived.
Dean smiles without showing his teeth. "Thanks." He only adds 'little brother' mentally.
. . .
December 23, 2014
"Dean, I have to ask you something," Claire starts, trying futilely to contain a flailing Mary. Eventually she surrenders and allows her to waddle around the library in the bunker, nevertheless keeping a close watch on her. She makes her way over to the tree, which, thankfully, they've only decorated starting halfway up.
"Sure," he replies, watching their flaxen-haired daughter grab fistfuls of pine needles. Her blonde locks are pinned back by a glittery red bow, and she's wearing a Christmas-themed jumper. Dean had had words to say about the corniness of the outfit, but even he can't deny how adorable she looks.
"So, I know we're having everyone over here for Christmas…" she prefaces. "But how would you feel about going to my parents' for New Years?"
Dean snaps his gaze to Claire, giving her his full attention. His irises mirror the evergreen.
"It's just… They're still Mary's grandparents, even if I haven't seen them in years… I talked to them, and they want to meet her… It might be good, you know, for them…"
"Okay," he agrees fluidly.
"Okay? Just like that?" she questions in surprise.
"Yeah, sure. You're right – Mary should meet her grandparents. She's getting older. It's definitely overdue."
"And you're fine with meeting my parents?"
At this, he shoots her a lazy grin. "I've faced worse, I'd say." He wraps his arm around her shoulders and pulls her to him; she slumps against his chest automatically, pressing his clasped hands above her heart.
"Thanks," she murmurs.
"You don't haveta thank me," he replies, a bit confused. "You've got every right to want Mary to meet your parents. That kid is growing like a weed, and if we teach her anything, it's gotta be how important family is."
"I know, it's just… Things with my parents have been really strained ever since what happened with my brothers, and it means a lot that you'll be there with me when I go. It's… It's been so long since I last saw them – I need you there with me."
"Of course," he says, kissing the top of her head. With the exception of Sam, who still occupies a secure place in Dean's heart, they've each replaced the void their families left with one another.
It's like she can read his mind. "Sam can come too, obviously…"
Dean sucks the inside of his cheek, before replying, "It might be best if it's just us. It's already gonna be a whole lot for them to take in at once, without adding Sasquatch into the mix."
"Yeah, maybe… Will he be okay here?"
With how much maternal concern she demonstrates for his brother, it's sometimes hard to remember she's actually a year younger than he is. He says, "I'm sure he'll be fine. Jody or Kev will stay, I guarantee it, and Cas is always here anyway."
"Okay," she consents. "Thanks. Again."
He spins her around so she's facing him, shooting one last cursory glance over her shoulder to make sure Mary's not getting into trouble, before giving the redhead his undivided attention. "Claire. If this were the other way around, you wouldn't even give it a second thought, would you?"
She shakes her head, confirming his assertion.
"So, don't give this a second thought. I wanna meet your parents. I want Mary to meet her grandparents. I don't want you to feel like it's a favor, babe – I'm only doing what's right by everyone." He kisses her softly, urging her to understand what his words weren't quite able to communicate.
She understands, just as she always does.
The moment is shattered swiftly. Out of nowhere, piney-fresh Mary wedges herself between her parents, apparently feeling left out. "Daddy no," she babbles, flinging her arms above her head as an indication for him to pick her up.
He obliges, making a show of it. "You're gettin' heavy," he complains dramatically, a smile nonetheless illuminating his handsome face. Dean has settled into fatherhood like he was made for it.
Claire smiles, too. The little girl looks exactly like him, apart from her eyes. It's uncanny, really; Dean would have made a beautiful girl, and she tells him so daily, much to his dismay.
The little girl turns to her mother. "Mama, where's Auntie Jody?" she bleats.
"I already told you, sweetheart. She's coming tomorrow."
"She's gonna bring me a pwesent?"
"You already have plenty of presents," Dean interjects.
"No Daddy, I want a Palala, like you!"
"An Impala," he corrects, beaming. "And how d'you know there's not already one under the tree, huh?"
"A'cause none of the boxes are big enough!" she shrieks giddily.
He kisses her chubby cheek loudly, eliciting another cascade of giggles. "You're a smart one, kiddo," he praises. "Got that from your Uncle Sammy."
Mary's blue eyes go wide. "Is Uncle Sammy gonna get me a Palala?" she questions seriously, voice low.
"I don't know," Claire humors her. "Maybe!"
"Or maybe Santa'll bring one," Dean adds.
"Santa can't come here," she scoffs theatrically, as though the notion is absurd. "There's no chiminniney!" She squirms riotously in his arms, but simultaneously tightens her grip around his neck, preventing him from putting her down.
"Ah," he says, bracing himself. "My mistake." The two parents share a furtive look, silently acknowledging that their child is a know-it-all whirlwind of energy.
And Dean thinks, fleetingly, this is the happiest he has ever been.
. . .
December 24, 2014
The bunker is livelier now than ever before. The non-Winchester survivors of the war are all here: Castiel, Kevin, Mrs. Tran, and Jody Mills. Christmas tunes filter through the intercoms, which were at one time used to sound alarms and various other end-of-the-world signals. Silent Night is playing, and Kevin, now a freshman, is already three too many eggnogs deep. His mother is berating him, all the while treating herself to a refill of her own.
Dean and Sam are sticking to beer.
"So, college-boy," Dean says slyly to Kevin, "how're the chicks at Princeton?"
"Obsessed with school," Kevin admits, sound wizened and world-weary at the ripe old age of twenty. He's changed so much since they first met him, grown so much. Hearing he got into Princeton had, in a way, it almost made everything else worth it. The only problem is, it doesn't matter nearly as much to him now as it did before.
"Figured," Dean snorts. "Pro-tip? Hang around the sports teams and sororities."
"You didn't even go to college, Dean," Sam points out wryly.
"Yeah, well, I've hung around enough to know the tricks of the trade, let's just say," he replies with a wink.
Sam rolls his eyes, but Kevin grins.
Claire, meanwhile, is conversing with Jody, her surrogate mother – she is to her, in some ways, what Bobby was to the Winchesters. They're just glad that, unlike Bobby, she made it through the fight in one piece.
But the brothers try not to think about Bobby, because thinking about Bobby reminds them of everything else they have lost, when now is a time to dwell instead on what they have gained. And, to be fair, they have gained quite a bit recently.
Still, Bobby's ghost haunts them as though he were still around. His memory is like an infected wound – it stings every time they go anywhere near it, so they just avoid the topic entirely to stave off the pain.
Bobby never should have died. John and Mary Winchester shouldn't have died, either, but Bobby was killed by a bullet. After everything he endured, how could such a resilient person die by something so mundane? He survived vengeful spirits, Leviathans, demons – you name it. And yet he was killed by cold metal.
Dean shakes this from his head and takes a swig of his beer, eyes scanning the scenery.
Claire has decorated the bunker to the best of her ability, but garlands and candy-canes can't conceal how bizarre this place is, how far removed it is from a normal home.
The Winchester brothers watch as Castiel attempts to wrangle Mary.
"Uncle Cassie!" she screeches, unreasonably happy to see someone she sees every single day. She circles him like a hyperactive vulture, pulling at the hem of his trench coat and making it impossible for him to move. "Play tea party!"
"Dean, your offspring is simmering with energy. Has she consumed too much chocolate again?" he deadpans, looking helpless.
"Nah, that's au naturel," he replies with a smirk. "They don't call it the terrible twos for nothin'."
"She's a wild one," Sam agrees. He nudges his brother and adds, "You'd better watch out."
Dean looks vexed, but doesn't respond.
Cas' blue gaze flits down once more to his knee-level. "Child, I have told you many times, I am not your-"
"Uncle Cassie pwease!"
Castiel sighs heavily. "Fine. But I refuse to play Miss Muffet this time." Cas then allows the pint-sized terror to lead him into another room, where her cache of toys is stored. Dean would never admit it, but between all of them, his daughter is beginning to get spoiled.
She's a tiny, yet unimaginably bright ray of sunlight in an otherwise bleak world, and they're all drawn to her like moths to a flame. Even stoic Cas isn't immune to her charms, as evidenced by his willingness to don women's clothing at her command.
This time, however, Cas is lucky. He is rescued from any profound (or YouTube-worthy) humiliation when Claire calls everyone to the table.
Dinner was a group effort, with Dean at the helm. Castiel set the table, Claire baked the desserts, and Sam and Dean cooked the main course – turkey and ham, with various side dishes.
This is Sam's first real Christmas with his family, and Bobby's words ring truer than ever – family don't end in blood. It makes more sense now, for some reason.
He's had apple-pie Christmases before, so that's not what's changed. There was that year with Amelia, and years ago with Jess. But spending the holidays with someone else's family only puts your own's deficiencies into sharp, unbearable focus. In all those other people's houses, he never really felt at home.
Seeing Dean and Claire and Mary, Sam longs for a family of his own. Life moves on, brothers grow up. He always felt different, separate, but he never felt he was meant to be alone like this.
But how can he ever search out what his brother stumbled upon? They only had one prophet, as far as he knows and, now that he's wiser, he wants someone who understands, who understands who he is and what he's been through. The thing is, the people who understand drop like flies.
Tonight, though, is not about him.
He watches his brother out of the corner of his eye. That velvet box is burning a hole in his pocket, he can tell. He's fidgeting, brushing his hand over the area like it's not obvious he's hiding something. And it's not, it's not obvious – it's only obvious to Sam, who always saw everything Dean didn't want him to.
Dean suddenly feels his younger brother's hand burning into his arm. A small smile curls one side of his lip, speaking words that neither of them would utter aloud.
. . .
December 25, 2014
The next morning, it snows. Not a heavy snow, just a light, powdery layer. The type of half-assed snow that leaves you wondering, "What was the point?" It dusts the treetops and the grass outside the bunker, dusts the midnight-black top of the Impala and the other cars.
Mary, after eviscerating her presents (which included a model replica of the Impala, to her delight), insists on building a snowman. "Like Fwozen," she had crooned, and Dean nearly tore his hair out because if he had to watch that movie one more time-
So, Claire bundles her in her winter coat, earmuffs, and mittens, and Sam gladly hauls her outside, resting her atop his gargantuan shoulders as she squeals happily. The child's parents and the rest of their houseguests follow.
Dean never imagined he could feel so nervous about something so ordinary. But, as he sequesters Claire away from the pack with the lame explanation of "I gotta talk to you," he can't help but feel anxiety coil in his gut.
He leads her to a part of the property that isn't marred by the looming presence of the bunker, an open field iced with a plane of snow that is completely untouched apart from several rabbit-tracks.
Claire's cheeks and nose have already gone rosy in the cold, and he thinks she's possibly the most beautiful she's ever looked.
"What is it, Dean?" she asks quizzically. Her confusion is even more apparent went her light eyebrows draw together.
"We've been together for a while, now," he prefaces. He scours his brain cells for the right words, prays that he can find them just this once. "Comin' up on five years."
"Yeah," she murmurs, her breath visible. She has no clue where he's going with this, but she knows something is off.
"And I, well… Now that the Gates are closed, we can stop worrying about the present all the time and start thinking about the future. You know me – you know I don't think more than an hour in advance," he laughs self-deprecatingly. "But… Whenever I do picture the future, I can't picture it with anyone other than you." He pauses, gauging her reaction, and his eyes read hers desperately.
"You know I feel the same way," she says cautiously, as though it's obvious. "I could never be away from you. I-I love you," she blurts out, matter-of-factly.
"Yeah, I, uh, I love you too," he says. He fishes around in his pocket for a moment, before his fingers finally reach their destination. He swallows, the muscle in his jaw working, before he extracts box and continues, "Which is why I wanted to-to ask you… Claire, will you marry me?"
She clamps both hands over her mouth, utterly in shock. She stammers wildly for several moments, before eventually managing, "Ar-are you serious?!"
He looks somewhat nervous, an unsure smile creeping across his face. "What, you want me to get down on one knee?" he quips.
"Wha-I-no," is her garbled response. She can't get anything else out before she flings herself at him, embracing him so forcefully she almost knocks the ring out of his hand.
"Is that a yes?" he chuckles into the fabric of her coat.
"Yes," she exclaims, kissing him quickly.
"Good," he says, struggling to keep his smile under control. "I was gettin' worried." He opens the box and slips the ring onto her finger. It's white gold, with a modest circular diamond in the center. It gleams, but only because he'd polished it beforehand – Claire can tell from the style that it's an old ring.
"It's beautiful," she says, studying it. "Was it-?"
"Yeah," he answers without missing a beat. "It was my mom's." They both stare at her left hand for several moments, before he goes on, "Now, we don't have to do anything fancy, but I think we should go to court at least. I want it to be official," he says. "I want it to mean something real. Written down, so everyone knows."
Touched, she replies, "Neither of us has been married before, unless you're leaving out a big secret… So… I mean…" She's struggling to present her argument in the right light. "Given the circumstances… Don't you think it might be nice to have it in a church?"
Dean's eyebrows arch; he's clearly taken aback by her response, but not adversely. "Really?"
"Well… It'll be legally binding, too…" Claire has actually thought about this frequently (c'mon, who wouldn't?), and given that she is (was?) a prophet and Dean helped close the Gates of Hell and stop the Apocalypse, she thinks getting married in a church seems like the right thing to do. Their lives are inextricable from religion, at this point – why not just try to embrace it?
"Maybe we could get Cas to officiate," he jokes.
"Oh my god," she laughs. "Can you imagine?"
He really can't, and he doesn't want to, either.
They're still smiling at each other like idiots when he says, "Hey, if you want it in a church, we'll have it in a church. Whatever you want. Just not too big."
"I don't even know anyone," she admits. "Biggest it could be is like twenty people."
Dean makes a face.
"Fine, we'll have it smaller."
"We don't have to do this right now," he says finally, his heart swelling as he realizes how eager she is.
"Claire Winchester," she tests. "Whaddyou think?"
His smile falters slightly. That surname… It's so much more than what it seems, so laden with meaning. He still can't shake the sense that it's a curse.
"Don't feel like you have to change your name," is all he says, giving her an out.
"I want to," she assures him. He can tell from the look in her eyes that she can decode the fears shining in his, and is consciously accepting the burden.
At heart, Dean doesn't know whether he's elated or devastated; but right now, it's impossible to feel anything other than elation.
A/N: Merry Christmas, everyone! And if you don't celebrate Christmas, well… Happy December! And Happy New Year! Thank you so much for reading, and hopefully you didn't OD on the fluffiness. Mary was so much fun to write.
Also. So. I know Dean wears Mary's silver wedding band on his right hand, but what they're talking about in the story is an engagement ring, which is different. I couldn't bear to make Dean part with that band. In my head-canon, Dean got the band and Sam got the ring, so they would each have a piece of their mother to remember her by. I figure Dean would want the band even though it's seemingly less significant, because it's something he can wear himself, whereas it'd be pretty awk for him to wear a woman's diamond ring. I figure Sam always wanted a family, so he could plan on giving it to his future wife. So Dean asking Sam for that ring is a big deal.
As for the church thing, you guys might disagree with me that Dean would be down for that. I don't really know, I went back and forth with it. I'm not really that religious, but Claire is supposed to be semi-religious. And I figure Dean would just go along with what she wanted. I don't know. I really have trouble gauging the Winchesters' views on religion, actually. I'd be interested to hear what you all think!
Let me know what you think, if it's not too much trouble :) :) I've got one more chapter in store for this puppy.