The Best Gift: A Christmas Father's Day Tale

By: Ridley

A/N: I know it's June and Christmas is months away. I also know I have a huge story in progress currently, (I have not forgotten, I promise) so forgive me but it is a tiny piece I couldn't resist with Father's Day this coming weekend in the states. So, consider this an extremely late Merry Christmas or even better- an early Father's Day surprise!

RCJ

"If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant: if we did not sometimes taste of adversity, prosperity would not be so welcome." –Anne Bradstreet

"This is not how I imagined I might be using mistletoe this year." Hollis Newberry sighed as he held up one of the long branches of Santalacea spread on Pastor Jim Murphy's kitchen table. "There will be some brokenhearted ladies in Star, Mississippi tonight."

Hollis was a new recruit. The twenty-two year old son of a veteran hunter Caleb Reaves had never met, but had heard Bobby mention on occasion. Hollis had not had his silver ring long. Caleb had hunted with him once a few months back per John Winchester's order. The burly blond had failed to make an impression, good or bad until this particular disastrous hunt. Caleb imagined the guy's skills with women were probably just as flawed and amateurish.

"It doesn't say much that you have to depend on a plant and some antiquated legend to get some action from the fairer sex, Dude." Caleb's foul mood might have caused the playful jab to come off more hostile than he intended. Pastor Jim shot him a look that bordered on disappointment.

"I have never understood how a parasitic plant that destroys its host by depriving it of the most basic needs and nutrients ever came to be associated with romance." Mackland Ames attempted to cover for his son's rudeness.

Caleb glanced to where his father was busy pouring over a book on Germanic witchcraft. He didn't look up, but Caleb supposed he should be grateful for the attempt at a redirect. Cracking on Hollis was not going to help matters. Pounding the grunt's skull might be an option if things continued to go south.

"I believe we can blame Victorian England for that," Bobby Singer spoke up, surprising Caleb once again with his vast knowledge of all things trivial. The crass mechanic was better read than most of Caleb's graduating glass at Auburn. "They were the first ones to use mistletoe in their Christmas celebration, coercing young lovers to swap spit in the midst of respectable society."

"Forget the Christmas connections, Bobby," John Winchester growled, his mood more fowl than that of his protégé's. The Knight was rarely affable but throw in a threat to his family and John's darker side was assured to emerge. "I want to know this stuff is going to kill the winter witch."

"The Beira is actually not a witch, but a Caillech, a weather deity," Mackland looked at The Knight."Some sort of god."

Pastor Jim Murphy cleared his throat, arching a silver brow in Mac's direction. "In twenty five years of hunting the supernatural, many of those as The Guardian, I have never ran across a creature even close to deserving such a title as a god. These beings often turn out to be a few notches up on the food chain or of the demonic persuasion."

"I'm merely quoting Esme's notes." Mac deferred. Caleb didn't miss the hint of a smile, or John's eye roll. Jim Murphy had no problem spouting the possibility of dragons and the likes of Merlin and Knights of the Round Table, but saw room for only one true God.

"Speaking of sore spots, has anyone else noticed Mac's sudden sensitivity to tossing around the 'W' word," Bobby smirked, nudging Mac's elbow. "How is the lovely Esme Madrigal by the way? Is 'Mesme' on again after last year's time out? She was rather willing to help us with all this Norse lore."

Caleb watched The Scholar's face color, the doctor's mouth opened and closed without any forthcoming response. Any other time he might have enjoyed seeing his unflappable father speechless. The reminder of his own grave predicament at the hands of a wendigo the previous Christmas, which was the impetus for Mac and Esme's break-up, brought his focus back on the present holiday calamity.

"What makes you think the mistletoe will work, Dad?"

"Honestly, it's mostly conjecture based on the few writings from hunters we have concerning similar creatures."

"That bitch has Sam and Dean. Conjecture isn't going to cut it."

The only reason Caleb hadn't completely lost him mind before now was the fact he knew the boys were alive. His psychic connection told him that much, although not much more. The same link that allowed him the small comfort John's sons were still breathing also told him his best friend was hurt and in pain. The hours old vision of Dean's peril still echoed across synapses, clung like fog to Caleb in a form of a merciless headache that had the occasional black dots swarming before his eyes. Caleb stayed glued against the counter instead of pacing out his frustration. All he needed was to lose last night's drive thru dinner on Pastor Jim's floor.

"No hunter has dealt with this type of creature in seventy years or more years, Son. At least none that wrote it down. They don't usually warrant our attention." Mac gestured to the books and papers spread before them. "You know how much of our field is piecemeal and conjecture at best. As much as it pains me, sometimes the trial, error and hope for the best method is all we have at our disposal."

"Then how do we even know we're dealing with a Beira?" Caleb wasn't convinced they were even lukewarm on their quest to pin down exactly what John and his sons had been hunting when the unthinkable happened. Mac was right of course, hunting the supernatural was not an exact science.

"That would be the tried and true method of ruling out what we know we aren't hunting, Kid." Bobby grunted as if Caleb should know better, which he did. Unlike Hollis, Caleb had been a ring bearing hunter since he was eighteen. Seven years under his belt as an official member of The Brotherhood, and years before that trailing after Bobby and John should have taught him better, but a threat to Dean and Sam was enough to have him coming undone, acting like a fresh recruit.

"What about the fact Beira rarely attack humans? That they usually only respond to a direct threat to themselves or nature. Like Mac said, they don't usually show up on our radar." Caleb might have been playing devil's advocate but he wouldn't waste time chasing false leads when Dean and Sam were in danger.

"Caleb has a point, but I believe Esme and Missouri are right about the creature's appearance and subsequent attacks being tied to the odd weather we have been having." Jim stood, making his way to the coffee pot which just happened to be on the counter Caleb was leaning against. Both dogs scrambled from under the table where they'd been napping, trotting after their master in hopes he might be going for their treat jar. The preacher met Caleb's gaze, gave a small smile as Scout rubbed her broad head against Caleb's jean clad leg and Atticus promptly sat on Caleb's feet. "The seasons are terribly askew in the area where the victims were found. Seventy five degrees on December twenty third, I daresay we won't be having the white Christmas Samuel used to request in his yearly letter to Santa."

"And don't forget all the vics have been frozen solid, like human popsicles." Hollis held up a photo- copied sketch Esme had faxed Mackland. It was of an unearthly beautiful woman, dressed in a flowing cape and holding a large decorative staff. "The blade on this staff that the Beira uses to freeze the ground for winter's arrival could definitely explain the strange mark we found on the other kids' corpses."

"That's it." Caleb started to move forward, deciding that taking his anger out on Hollis would not be such an imposition. After all, it had to be his fault that Dean and Sam had gotten taken. John would have never let that happen.

Jim gripped his arm before he could move. Atticus whined. "His intent is not malicious, my boy. He's not trying to infer Sam and Dean have suffered the same fate. Learning one's way around us when family is compromised is akin to taking a stroll through a field of land mines in enemy territory."

Caleb knew The Guardian was right. Hollis was new to The Brotherhood, and not exactly privy to the inner workings of The Triad and those closest to them. Few hunters were. The only reason the man was here now was that he happened to be on the hunt with John when Sam and Dean disappeared and they could use all the manpower they could get. As the Knight of The Brotherhood John was charged with making sure new hunters understood the ropes. That meant field training. Although John Winchester had his own agenda, he took his command seriously, and sometimes Caleb let himself believe that his mentor believed in his mission, perhaps even enjoyed it.

"Newberry has a point." John took the paper from Hollis. "The wound was the one missing piece I couldn't make fit in the puzzle. It was clean through, almost star-shaped. Sammy used it to shoot down my succubus theory."

The mention of Sam's knack for research doused the flame Hollis's casual talk of corpses had ignited. Last year thirteen year old Sam's relentless sleuthing had revealed a pattern Harland Sawyer and Ian Hastings had missed. It suggested a wendigo, not a werewolf, had attacked Caleb and Ian's brother, prompting Sam and Dean to launch their own rescue party when everyone else had given Caleb up for dead. Caleb would not repay them by losing his cool and letting his emotions cloud his mind. Hollis was safe for now.

"Let me see." Caleb gave the pastor a nod he hoped conveyed he wasn't intent on tearing Hollis's limbs from his torso and using them to beat some sensitivity into him. Jim must have understood because he let him go with another reassuring squeeze and went back to retrieving his coffee. Atticus and Scout stayed where they were. The prospect of a bacon strip even more enticing than shadowing one of their boys.

John handed the paper off and Caleb focused on the staff, trying to remember any detail from his earlier vision now that he had some distance from the event. His headache had notched back to tolerable. The stick in the picture could have been made of a light-colored wood, maybe white ash. A carved intricate pattern ran the entire length until it ended at the shaft of what looked like a blade made of crystal. A pain flared behind Caleb's eyes, a bright light flashing to reveal an image of Dean and Sam in the forest. It was familiar, pieces of his first vision.

Caleb watched from the eyes of his best friend's attacker as the Winchesters were surprised from behind. Dean lifted his gun, but wasn't quick enough to avoid the spear that was stabbed into his side. Blood froze before it hit the ground. Drops falling from the wound to land like scattered shining rubies. Dean's pain was instant and breath stealing. It pulsed through Caleb like molten lava, yet Caleb could not deny the rush of cold that fired along every synapse. He fought to pull in air, too tangled up in Dean's misery to do anything but watch his best friend freeze to death.

"Caleb!"

John's sharp voice cut through Caleb's current misery, releasing him from the flashback's hold. He managed to breathe again pushing Dean's cry of agony to the dark recesses, while still holding on to what he'd seen of the staff that had been used against his best friend.

"Son?"

"I'm good." Caleb blinked his father's concerned face into focus, giving a shake of his head. Mac had moved from the table, standing shoulder to shoulder with John.

"The weapon could definitely be the same," Caleb told them, pressing the heel of his hand to his forehead where the drumming had picked up rhythm behind his skull. He swayed slightly on his feet and felt Mac reach out and grip his forearm.

"Sit down, Caleb."

Mac's tone left no room for argument. Caleb took a seat in the chair Pastor Jim pulled out for him without a fuss . He looked up at The Guardian. "I didn't pay it much attention before, but it looks similar to the picture and it has a power to it. It most definitely has the ability to freeze things."

John moved to Caleb's other side, taking the chair Mac had vacated. "Did you see the witch this time, Kid? Any specific landmarks we could follow to find where she is holding the boys?"

"Nothing new, Johnny." John had already asked those same question when Caleb suffered the vision the first time a few hours before. It had struck as soon as Caleb had climbed out of the jeep when he and Bobby pulled into the driveway at Jim's. John had met them before they could take a step towards the farmhouse, chomping at the bit for any information. Caleb wondered if seeing John in person, picking up on his fear for Sam and Dean had been enough to trigger the vision, or if Caleb had been on the verge since getting the call from John that his sons were missing, his mind merely holding it at bay while he was driving. Either way, John had been present for the entire episode, and had wanted a thorough debriefing which left the Knight even more frustrated.

"Damn it." John ran both hands through his hair, standing once more to pace the floor. "This is getting us nowhere."

"I'm sorry." Caleb knew John's anger wasn't directed at him, at least not intentionally, but it still stung and left Caleb feeling as if he weren't trying hard enough. His visions were at best like a highlight reel he watched through the monster's field of vision. Typically he was thankful for their brevity and the distance he was provided, but in this case he would have given his right arm for more information.

"It's not your fault, Son," Mac squeezed Caleb's shoulder before once more picking up the journal he'd been studying.

Jim sat the cup of coffee he'd poured himself in front of Caleb, slid a small container of cream beside it. "Now we can be quite certain of what we're dealing with and how to handle her."

"That's once we find the bitch," Bobby pointed out, unhelpfully.

"If we find her," Hollis threw his unwanted two cents in. "John and I looked for hours with no luck."

Caleb didn't even bother to glower at Newberry. Why waste energy on beating the crap out of him when he could do something productive. He rested his head in his hands as the others continued to speculate. Caleb closed his eyes again, taking a deep breath and focusing all his energy. He momentarily ignored the connection to Dean and Sam to find what he was looking for. The threads that tethered him to the boys were always the brightest when Caleb dove into the recesses of his mind but the one he latched onto this time was duller, a barely there fiber that was created the moment he connected with the thing that had hurt Dean. Most of the time Caleb tried not to think of the fingerprints the creatures he connected with in visions left behind, but they were telltale marks on his psyche, a taint that taunted Caleb he was somehow one of them. On occasion when there was no other recourse he backtracked, used the links formed to delve into the darkness, to come alongside his tormentors.

A well-meaning Mac had pointed out on more than one occasion that plunging headlong into an abyss was not advisable, nor was it in Caleb's best interest. Unwillingly connecting with the supernatural in a vision was different than making a conscious decision to grab on and hold hands with something evil. For one it took a hell of a lot of psychic energy, which burned through the body's resources like a marathon run. Then there was the less physical, but more damaging risk to a guy's psyche. It was one that Caleb agreed wasn't usually worth taking, but this was Sam and Dean. Caleb would do whatever it took to bring them home, even if it meant losing just another tiny bit of his soul to what he liked to think of as the dark side of the Force. Threats of him going Vader aside, the task wasn't easy while riding the after effects of a vision; but his abilities had grown over the years to a point that sometimes scared Caleb with what he could do when he literally set his mind to it.

Caleb wasn't sure what to expect upon contact with the creature, but hoped the Beira wasn't as evil as say a black dog. Surely a nature deity wouldn't be comparable to the things they usually took on and the vibe he'd picked up from the staff hadn't been exactly bad, just powerful. His hopefulness had not prepared him for the backlash that assaulted him.

Caleb was pulled under as sure as being caught in a riptide, fast and quick, no chance to draw in a breath as if the creature had its hands around his throat. Dread and misery lashed out at him as the being reacted to Caleb's intrusion. Caleb might have been overcome if not for the blue spark that pierced the brackish mire in his mind. It effectively and instantly broke his tenuous contact with the entity. He thought to find Mac on the other end of the life line, but it was Jim staring at him when he forced his eyes open with a gasp. The Guardian had Caleb's face framed in his hands, a look of worry quickly being replaced by one of exasperation.

"Jim," Caleb choked when he could speak again. He wasn't sure how long he'd been out. Caleb could lose track of time when he was completely engulfed in his abilities.

"Breathe." Jim removed one hand with a heavy sigh when Caleb drew one desperate breath then another. He patted Caleb's cheek, albeit a little rougher than usual. "That was not your smartest play, my boy. Brave, yes, but entirely reckless."

"I've been telling him for years that courage don't trump stupid," Bobby chimed in, adding to Caleb's chagrin. "He's not overloaded on the brain cells as it is."

Caleb ignored the mechanic and didn't dare look at his father who he could sense on the peripheral, holding back on the reprimand Caleb was sure he would have gotten if they hadn't had a near stranger in their midst. As it was, Hollis was no doubt standing slack-jawed wondering what all the fuss was about. Caleb was sure he'd just tossed some gasoline on the fire of rumors surrounding his abilities. Caleb took his first easy breath and focused on the only person who would approve of his risk considering the reward.

"Junior?" John asked, kneeling in front of him.

"Staff or no staff, I don't think we're dealing with any witch or deity," Caleb told The Knight. "I think it's a freakin' darkling."

"A darkling?" Mac touched Caleb's shoulder, reclaiming his attention. "But that makes no sense. They can't control the weather, nor do they use any type of weapon like the one you witnessed in the vision."

"What's a darkling?" Hollis asked.

"If you think about it, Mac, it makes a whole hell of a lot of sense." John ignored Hollis's question, turning to Bobby instead. "Remember North Carolina a few years back when you, me and the kid ran across the one that had us chasing shadow demons? It led us on one hell of a wild goose chase before trapping us in that cave for its own little dinner party."

"I remember it nearly ripped out Junior's throat," Bobby replied.

Caleb glared at him. "Because you used me as bait."

"What's a shadow demon?" Hollis demanded, missing the point.

"If I recall, darklings are known for their malicious meddling," Jim ran a hand through his unruly silver hair. "They thrive on wreaking havoc and annoying their supernatural peers. They also have a penchant for stealing things, especially shiny things that hold any semblance of power. What if this particular darkling saw an opportunity to take a Beira's staff and to use it for nefarious purposes? It would explain the condition of the victims, and what Caleb saw in his vision."

"Unlike Beira, darklings are known for their cruelty," Mac conceded. "They despise human kind."

"They sure as hell don't care to shed innocent blood, especially if there's something in it for them. Bastards would as soon kill a person as look at one," Bobby growled. "They're like goblins on steroids."

"Many believe they are cousin to the elf," Mac said as if that explained everything. One only needed to meet an elf to understand how any creature related to one might be bad news.

"Darklings are related to elves? Like Legolas and Arwen elves?" Hollis piped up again.

Caleb cut his gaze to Newberry, wondering if Jim had been coerced or black-mailed by the kid's dad into giving Hollis a ring. It wasn't the first time Caleb had wondered about the whole 'legacy' stuff. Ian Hasting and Joshua Sawyer had also gotten rings from Jim. Caleb often doubted either one of them or their buddy Fisher deserved a pass into The Brotherhood. "Forget everything you thought you ever knew about elves from watching Tolkien, Newbie. No elf ever looked like Liv Tyler, and you can cross Santa's little helpers out of your mind too. Elves are bloodthirsty carnivores with a taste for the flesh of virgins, especially young boys. Darklings are some sort of half breed variety. I don't even want to know what they're mixed with."

"Something straight out of the bowels of hell would be my guess," Bobby replied.

"Caleb, are you absolutely sure about this?" Mackland asked.

"It felt familiar, Mac." Caleb pinched the bridge of his nose, not sure how to explain to his 'logic first' father what his gut was telling him. "I haven't connected with many things on the dark side, not consciously anyway, but I did touch the one that trapped me and Johnny and Bobby when it tried to eat me for dinner. I had to distract it. It wasn't like any kind of displaced spirit or creature I've had the displeasure of mind-melding with. I can't really explain it, only that it felt empty, like it was lacking anything that might have made it once human."

"Light," Jim spoke up. "It was missing light."

"That's one way to put it," Caleb said, barely meeting Jim's gaze.

"Which is why when you touched it, it responded so violently." Jim squeezed Caleb's shoulder as if he could read the younger man's thoughts. "It's why it lashed out at you. Creatures that know only the dark do not respond well to the bright of day."

Caleb appreciated what the pastor was implying even if he wasn't entirely sure Jim's optimism where his character was concerned was necessarily warranted.

Bobby snorted. "Then, Junior, being the ray of sunshine that he is, would have just alerted the monster that we're on to him."

"Possibly." Mac sighed.

"All the more reason to find the bastard quickly," John responded.

"Especially since we're probably not the only ones looking for it."

Hollis's statement had all eyes on him. It was the first intelligent thing he'd said, but it made Caleb's skin crawl just the same. "Come again."

Newberry shrugged, not looking so sure of himself now that he had garnered the complete Triad's attention, not to mention Bobby and Caleb's intense gazes. "I mean, if the staff belongs to the Beira and the darkling took it and is using it in a totally evil way then…"

"Then she would be desperate to get it back before it drew unwanted attention to her," Caleb finished for Hollis. He looked to John. "Like the attention of The Brotherhood."

"Most creatures go to great limits to stay off our radar as you put it earlier," Pastor Jim agreed. "It would not be in her best interest or her kind if we were led to believe she or her sisters were hurting humans on our watch."

"If the darkling sensed the Beira was closing in, it might be just as desperate for a way out of the crosshairs. It had it's fun but wouldn't be willing to answer for its crimes." John nodded. "The bastard could be thinking we'd take care of the problem for it, especially if we thought the Beira had dared to attack one of our of own."

"You actually believe this creature has the foresight to plan such an intricate reuse?" Mac shook his head. "But how could it be sure the Beira would show up?"

"Because she would link with Dean," Caleb of course had no proof of what he was suggesting, but it made a sick kind of sense. "She's probably been trailing the darkling by its victims. I lay money she can sense when the staff is used, can detect the cold it causes. It's why the darkling left Dean alive. The signal is probably stronger with Dean suffering and not dead."

"In the heat wave we've been having a blast of the frigid in the region wouldn't be hard to detect, Kid," Bobby added. "Anyone with a nose for cold could follow the trail."

"I think what Caleb is proposing is not quite as literal," Mac met his son's gaze. "You think the Beira is linked to the staff, and therefore connected to the victims of its power psychically."

"The staff had an energy all of its own," Caleb nodded.

"As do most supernatural relics," Jim broke in. "Magical instruments and cursed objects often give off certain signatures."

"Like the box you had Dean and I pick up for you at Thanksgiving." As The Guardian of The Brotherhood, Jim had made it his special mission to collect supernatural objects, especially ones that could be used as weapons against the innocent.

The pastor raised a white eyebrow. "Yes, the one you weren't supposed to touch."

Caleb's mouth twitched. "Just call me Pandora."

"If I recall you explained how it called to you like a siren?"Jim arched a brow. "Dean said you were unable to resist its pull."

Bobby made a production of coughing, masking the barely intelligible word, 'bullshit'.

Caleb glared at the mechanic and then turned his gaze on Jim. So maybe his and Dean's curiosity had played a part in their poor decision making as well. "Is that how we put it?"

"You did, and I'm thinking that perhaps the staff might register the same effect."

"You think I could track it, just like the Beira." At the least, Caleb hoped he might be able to use it to increase his likelihood to connect with Dean.

Jim must have been thinking the same thing. "Distance and whatever warding the darkling has used may hinder your link to Sam and Dean currently, but the staff would be on a completely different wavelength."

"That would be a reasonable conclusion," Mac concurred, bolstering Caleb's confidence. "Caleb may even be able to triangulate with the three distinct patterns, but I'm not sure it would be advisable for him to make the kind of connection that would be needed to something we aren't entirely clear about."

"We're talking about Sam and Dean's lives, Mac," John started. "If we're right about that thing, and what it plans to do, then it won't likely leave us with living witnesses to refute the story it wants us to buy into."

"I love those boys, Johnathan. You know I would do anything for them. I'm only suggesting caution where my son is concerned."

"John's right." Caleb wasn't sure if it was an automatic default to look to The Knight. He liked to believe it was because despite John's faults as a father, his priority was always to protect Sam and Dean first and foremost. "I'll do whatever it takes to find Dean and Sam before the darkling can do any more damage."

"With this new information, we should go back to the woods where we lost the boys' trail and let Caleb try." John gestured to the branches Bobby had fashioned into arrows. "Bring those just in case we end up dealing with the Beira."

"I'm guessing mistletoe doesn't kill darklings?" Hollis asked Caleb.

"We should be so lucky to use a crossbow." Caleb reached up and traced a faint scar that ran about an inch just beneath his jaw line. He watched Hollis's Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallowed hard. "Darklings take a more hands on approach."

"What does that mean exactly?" Hollis's eyes were wide now, all his earlier cockiness having fled.

"It means you have to get up close and personal, cut off their heads, Rookie." Bobby made a slashing sign across his throat. "Youngest hunter always gets to be the distraction."

"Distraction?" Hollis squeaked.

Caleb snorted. "He means bait."

"Is that in the handbook?"

If Dean was there the two of them would have gotten a kick out of Newberry's query about the legendary Brotherhood Bible. As far as Caleb knew it didn't nor had it ever existed. Although older hunters, including him on occasion when he wanted to irk Dean, loved to quote its fictional prose. "Don't worry, Newberry. Darklings, like their elf cousins, prefer virgins."

Caleb doubted that was true if the way the one darkling he'd crossed had torn into him, but he couldn't help himself. After all, Sam and Dean had fallen into enemy hands on Hollis's watch. He slapped an ashen Newberry on the back. "I'm sure a guy with your prowess with the ladies has absolutely nothing to worry about."

TBC-tomorrow! Reviews are always welcome!