Inspired by the song "His Favo(u)rite Christmas Story by Capital Lights. Written for Sammy (mishasaur) on Tumblr. Merry Christmas!
WARNING: eventual character death.
December 24th, 1967
"I met him up in Delaware in nineteen-sixty-seven. He was wearing a blue scarf to match his pretty eyes. It was December twenty-fourth at a quarter till eleven when I finally gained the courage to ask him to dance."
His name was Dean Winchester, a young man of age twenty-two with more stories about life than anyone could ever image. The only ones he had known to be family were Bobby, who had raised him and his brother as his own, taught them everything he knew about hunting the supernatural, and Sam, his eighteen year old brother with whom he travelled around the country doing small jobs. They never knew a real home, never knew a real family, never knew what having a mother or a biological father felt like. It was just Sam and Dean out on the road after Bobby's death two years previous.
"Do you believe in love, Dean?" the young boy contemplated, the older hunter looked up from his meal at his brother who sat across from him on a booth at a cheap diner somewhere in Delaware. It was the night before Christmas, the carollers sang as they danced through the night, the flakes of snow fell gracefully on the ground covering it with a pure, white blanket. There was a Christmas tree decorated in a corner of the diner, a mistletoe hung from the ceiling by the door, the ambient was euphoric and celebratory. Strangers entered, strangers left the place yet they all gathered to celebrate for they knew not one of them had a family or a nice, warm home to go to for the night.
"I don't know, never been in love." Dean shrugged, "Why? Do you?" he furrowed his brows and narrowed his eyes attempting to read Sam's semblance.
"I think it's possible. I mean, I don't-" he sighed deeply, "I don't think this is the life I want. Don't you ever stop and think what your life will be in the future?"
"This is the life I've known, Sam, this is what I do and I'm good at it, I don't want anything else." he took a bite of his burger, Sam shifted in his seat ignoring the food in front of him.
"I don't want this, Dean, I don't want this life. I want an education, I want to be somebody, meet a nice girl, marry her, have kids and our own house." a small smile formed on the boy's lips as he kept his eyes fixed on the table.
"You're a dreamer, Sammy." Dean chuckled ignoring the small ache in his heart.
"Dean, I'm serious." Sam looked up at Dean, the smile fading from his lips, "I want a normal life. I can do this, I can work some place to pay for college."
"That's too much money, Sam."
"Dean, I can do this, I-"
"Alright." Dean wiped his lips, greasy from the burger and let the serviette drop on the table.
"What?"
"You're of enough age to do what you want, Sam, I'm not gonna stop you. If you want to go your own way, go ahead. I'm gonna keep doing what I do best, you do what you think it's good for you. I know you're capable of getting the life you want." Dean kept his eyes fixed on the glass, watching as the condensation formed and droplets rolled down to the bottom of the glass. Sam took a deep breath forming words in his head in response, the bell hanging above the door of the diner chimed loudly attracting the attention of the diners, including the Winchesters. A young man, no older than Sam stood there fixing the blue scarf around his neck as the snow flakes on his dark and messy hair melted, he shivered before walking up to the counter, sitting on the stool across from Dean and Sam's table, he gave the older man a small smile before turning to the waitress with a notepad and a pen.
"Hey, you're here! The usual?" she spoke with cheeriness in her tone.
"Hello, Tessa!" he spoke in a rather deep voice, "Yes, please." he smiled.
"I thought you wouldn't come today, got a little worried since the weather's terrible outside." Tessa kept the conversation as she poured coffee on a cup for the young man.
"The store was rather busy today, lots of customers shopping until the last minute." he shrugged, pouring a spoon of sugar in his coffee. "I do appreciate your concern, thank you."
"Anna stopped by earlier, she told me to give you this." she took a small envelope from her pocket handing it to him. "She's out of town for the holidays and figured you'd need that urgent."
"Oh, thank you. Yes, I really need this." he placed the envelope carefully inside his navy blue coat.
"Dean." the older Winchester felt a hand on his shoulder shake him, "Dean, stop staring at the guy."
"Huh?" he blinked twice before looking at his brother, "I wasn't staring."
"You've been staring at him since he came in." Sam tried to hide a smirk from his lips.
"Shut up, bitch."
"Jerk." Sam replied with a smile on his face forgetting the previous conversation. The Christmas songs continued to play one after another, some of the travellers danced with the locals merrily letting time pass by. The Winchester brothers waited and waited until the snowstorm calmed yet it did not cease.
"Dean, I think the guy is staring at you." Sam spoke glancing at the young man sitting in a corner of the diner with Tessa.
"Who?" Dean looked up at his brother.
"The guy with the blue scarf."
"Oh, he's not staring at me, Sam, he's staring at the girl next to us."
"I'm pretty sure he's staring at you." Dean shifted in his seat feeling self-conscious, he cleared his throat ignoring the pair of eyes he knew were on him. Sam smirked yet continued with his reading. The clock marked the twentieth second and a half hour of the night; Dean glanced at the clock on the wall in exasperation, his muscles ached from the hunt of the previous day having received several hits from Gordon, the vampire they hunted. He closed his eyes for brief seconds taking in the warm air into his lungs, his body shivered making his hairs stand on end at the sudden cool breeze that entered the diner when a customer stepped in. Sam kept his attention solely focused on his book only removing his eyes from the pages to take a sip of his hot drink, Dean glanced around the room uninterested in the crowd around him until a familiar pair of cerulean eyes locked with his, he shifted in his seat not breaking the eye contact with the stranger. His heart rate accelerated faintly as the boy with the entrancing blue eyes curled his lips into a smile solely directed towards him and Dean found himself smiling back.
"Why don't you just go talk to him?" Dean turned his head towards his brother attempting to hide the rose tint from his cheeks.
"Shut up, Sam." the older man rolled his eyes at his brother.
"He's been staring at you all night, and you seem to like him."
"This is getting awkward, Sam, I can't just go up to him and ask if he likes guys."
"He wouldn't be looking at you the way he does if he didn't. There's no harm in asking."
"He could punch me on the face." Sam rolled his eyes as he sat straighter in his seat.
"Just go start a conversation and find out." Dean scratched the back of his head seeming timorous, he glanced at the boy with the blue scarf across the room catching a small smile directed towards him. He cleared his throat and took a deep breath as he stood up. "Go, Dean, or I'm gonna take you to him myself." he said with a grin, Dean curled his upper lip murmuring a curse as he turned to leave.
His limbs trembled with each step he gave towards the young man, the beat of his heart accelerated as he found himself within a few feet from him. He managed to place a confident smile on his face when the boy looked up from his seat to Dean, a timid smile formed on his lips.
"Hey there, I noticed you've been staring at me all night." Dean said as he sat on the stool next to the boy, he leant against the counter resting his elbows upon it.
"I might have." he responded with a small shrug. "Could you blame me?" his eyes moved from the newspaper he was 'reading' to meet Dean's.
"Oh, so you admit you have?" Dean smirked hiding any excitement from his voice.
"I do not deny it. Would that disconcert you?" he tilted his head slightly which Dean found endearing.
"Not at all, I don't mind, I mean- I wouldn't mind staring at you all night either." Dean winked at the boy who looked down at his hands attempting to hide the blush creeping from the back of his neck up to his cheeks. "Do you dance?"
"Excuse me?" the blue-eyed boy looked up once again, his hands pulling at a thread from his coat.
"I asked you if you can dance."
"I- a little bit, I think. Why? Are you asking me to dance?" his blue eyes twinkled with hope as they stared at Dean.
"Do you want to?" he smiled.
"I would love to." he smiled back.
It was the night before Christmas, it was love at first sight. He was a small town boy, Dean was a travelling guy; he never caught his name before they said their goodbyes.
December 24th, 1970
A couple years later he was out on the road, having Christmas dinner in a diner alone somewhere in Kansas. Sam had achieved to enter Stanford leaving his brother on his own, he had been scared to be on his by himself for the first time yet he wanted a normal life; they said their goodbyes with a promise to call if either was in an emergency situation. Dean would never admit to himself or anyone but he felt lost and empty, there was an ache in his chest as if he had lost his brother, even if he was alive, nothing would be as it had been for eighteen years. He was awfully lonely.
"Here's your pie, sir." the young waitress smiled placing the saucer with a piece of apple pie on the table, the diner was nearly empty. She was a lovely girl with long, blonde curls dangling on either side of her face, her wide and bright eyes gleamed with a smile. "Sir, could you shed a little holiday cheer?" she spoke sitting across from him.
"I have no stories to tell, Miss-"
"Becky!" she interrupted him.
"Becky." he shook his head with a smile.
"I'm sure you do, you seem like a guy who knows about life. I would love to hear one." she folded her arms on the table, her smile never fading.
"Alright, here's my favourite Christmas story 'bout a boy with no name." he looked down at his hands on the table, sudden reminiscence overtook him yet he smiled at the memory. Becky grinned wider than before as he commenced to said, "I met him up in Delaware in nineteen-sixty-seven. He was wearing a blue scarf to match his pretty eyes. It was December twenty-fourth at a quarter till eleven when I finally gained the courage to ask him to dance."
The green irises contracted at the lack of light adjusting themselves to the soft illumination from the light bulb hanging on the ceiling; he was entranced in those blue orbs staring into his, he could feel the heat of the shorter boy's body transferring to his, his limbs and hands shook from the cold yet he cared not. His feet kept moving gracefully in unison along his dancing partner as the music in the background played from the inside of the diner.
The gentle snow keeps falling on people
Who are homeward bound
That's the way it's always been
The circle never ends
Christmas seems to come and go
From the place that I don't know
Holly leaves and Christmas trees
It's that time of the year
Lights aglow and mistletoe
Don't mean a thing when you're not here
"You fell in love with him, didn't you? I bet you did, it's so romantic!" Becky spoke when Dean paused from his narration.
"Yeah, I guess you could say that." he smiled remembering the day, when his heart beat wild feeling the touch of the boy's fingertips on his palms.
As I walk, walk this lonely street
The sound of snow beneath my feet
I'll think of how it used to be
Holly leaves and Christmas trees
Use to mean so much to me
As the song ended, neither parted from their positions simply stood there as the snow fell around them. Dean tightened his hand around the other boy's, he could feel the hot breath from his partner's lips on his and without any hesitancy he leant down and their lips met. He could hear his heart pounding in his head, his lips moved smoothly against the others; he breathed in the sweet scent of the boy, one he memorised and never again found anywhere.
"You kissed him?! That is so sweet!" Becky jumped in her seat grinning ear to ear visualising in her mind how the story happened.
"I'll never forget that. He was nervous and I think it was his first kiss but he didn't stop me." he drew in his bottom lip between his teeth to keep it from trembling, he blinked several times to keep his eyes from spilling any salty droplets.
"Do you think you'll ever see him again?" Becky tilted her head slightly, her eyebrows met suddenly seeing the pain in his eyes.
"Honestly, no. But it's a good memory to keep."
"He was your soul mate." she said in a low tone.
"What?"
"You love a person once in your life, when you can't forget them it's because they are your soul mate." she smiled softly, Dean shook his head disbelieving yet hopeful. He often wondered if the boy with no name had forgotten him. Where was he now?
"Do you think I'll ever see you again?" Dean broke the silence as the boy rested his head on his chest listening to the beat of his heart.
"Perhaps."
"Will you tell me your name?"
"When we meet again, you will know then."
Every holiday season as he travelled alone he would tell about his Christmas dance partner that he never knew well. He shared his favourite story with the locals he met and Dean was called the Christmas Story-Telling Travelling Man.
Sam excelled in his studies; all Dean knew about him was that he married a beautiful girl named Jessica, he was a lawyer working for a law firm and was expecting a son. They never met after Sam's wedding, Dean had agreed not to, he could manage never seeing his brother to keep him safe, to keep him and his family alive.
December 24th, 1998
By age fifty-three he had done settled down in Lawrence, Kansas; he bought a small house for himself and opened a mechanic shop like Bobby once had. Hunters that knew Dean Winchester stopped by to ask for help with a job, he often hunted by himself if they were close to Lawrence. Holidays came and passed, year after year, Christmas after Christmas; Dean was alone until all the neighbourhood kids gathered around just to listen to the stories 'bout his life on the road. All he had now were these children he told, every Christmas Eve they showed up before dark. He'd tell them all the story but they knew it by heart, they could quote it word-for-word. Dean always told it the same; it was his favourite Christmas story called "The Boy With No Name."He said, "I met him up in Delaware in nineteen-sixty-seven. He was wearing a blue scarf to match his pretty eyes. It was December twenty-fourth at a quarter till eleven when I finally gained the courage to ask him to dance."
December 24th, 2012
He could feel the life pour out of his system, his muscles weakening, the pain in his stomach became unbearable; Dean moved, he tried getting up from the floor but he was losing too much blood which made his head dizzy, he groaned in pain placing a hand on the wound the vampire had caused him. He was old, he had lived and he would die like a hunter would.
"I am not a monster, I didn't want to hurt you." Dean heard the faint voice as he became oblivious of consciousness.
…~)*(~…
"You're awake." the doctor spoke as he finished checking his blood pressure. "Don't move, you could open your wound again." Dean lay on the hospital bed on cold Christmas morning as he took his last breath. The children had grown, he had nobody left, except the old doctor who was holding his hand.
"Where am I?" he groaned, his throat felt dry, his body ached, he knew he was drugged to not feel the pain but he could still feel a small sting on his stomach. He turned his head to look at the doctor who sat on a chair next to him and wondered if he was truly dead for the man seemed like an Angel only about his age.
"I am wondering, what are you doing in a hospital on a Christmas eve?" the doctor removed his glasses from his face folding them on the pocket of his robe.
"What are you doing sitting with a patient on a Christmas eve?" Dean managed to say through the pain in his throat.
"I have no family to celebrate with, I always sit with my patients on Christmas eve. It is rather lonesome, I assume they would like company." he gave Dean a small smile, there was a look in his eyes that Dean found familiar, he could see what the man was saying without speaking a word. The room was quiet for a moment, he tried not to move as the doctor said. He was old, too old to live through a wound so big and too young to die; how was he awake? Why was he alive?
"How did I get here?" it hurt to speak, he felt short of breath and exhausted.
"A man came in carrying you, said you had an accident and left." Dean was silent again. He felt weaker and weaker each second that passed, his eyelids felt heavy. He was thankful not to be alone for once in his life; always, every Christmas eve he was the one to tell a Christmas story to whomever but it was now his turn to ask.
He said, "Sir, could you share a little holiday cheer?" A simple Christmas story is all he wanted to hear, the doctor turned his eyes to Dean and he was amazed by how blue they were. He smiled at the man lying on the bed and nodded.
He said, "I met him up in Delaware in nineteen-sixty-seven. Though I never caught his name, he was a travelling man. It was December twenty-fourth at a quarter till eleven, I'm so glad he gained the courage to ask me to dance." Dean found himself unable to stop the tears from flowing from his eyes as the doctor narrated the story. He felt light in his body, his heart beat weakly and content, a small smile curled on his lips when the doctor fixed his eyes on his, with tears in his eyes, he said. "I never loved anyone like I loved him."
"Will you tell me your name now?" Dean forced himself to speak, the doctor nodded tightening his hand around the older man's.
"Castiel Novak."
"Dean Winchester." he smiled gently feeling the burning tears roll down his cheeks.
"I know." Castiel whispered, he covered his mouth with his other hand as he wept.
"Cas, Castiel, do you think I'll ever see you again?" he spoke in a weak tone.
"Perhaps." he smiled through tears. They were silent for a long time, listening to the sounds around them, their hands never let go even as Dean felt himself overtaken by exhaustion, he was lulled to 'sleep' by a familiar scent and he knew it was Castiel. He was home, he had found home a little too late.