Disclaimer: Neither the boys nor anything related to Supernatural belongs to me. I'm just having some fun with the boys, playing around with Eric Kripke's sandbox.
*Title borrowed from the carol of the same name.
MARY'S BOY CHILD
By: Vanessa Sgroi
Dean was on his way to a tiny coffee shop—True Brew—he'd spied as he and Sam had driven through town in the pre-dawn hours. Walking briskly, he breathed deeply of the cold air and resisted the urge to stick out his tongue to catch the white snowflakes drifting lazily from the sullen sky.
The hunter paused, an arresting noise catching his ear. Not just noise—singing. A multitude of voices raised in song. Glancing up, Dean realized he was currently passing a church, one bedecked with the color and sparkle of Christmas. Strangely intrigued, he found himself climbing the steps and pulling open the heavy door. Here the voices grew louder and Dean recognized the old-fashioned Christmas carol being sung.
Slipping into the sanctuary, the elder Winchester slipped into one of the back pews wrapped in the shadows. His gaze roamed the church, taking in the flowers, the sparkling white lights, and the lighted candles. It was pretty and peaceful. Far, far different from Purgatory and Dean found himself appreciating the unbridled celebration for the first time in his life. He quietly hummed a few bars of the carol under his breath.
One carol ended and another began when his phone vibrated in his pocket. Pulling it out, he scanned the text message.
"Where r u?"
Dean hesitated for a moment before responding. "Church."
"Wut? Y?" came back almost immediately.
Dean looked around at the crowd all dressed in their Christmas finery then glanced at his own worn jeans, faded shirt, and scarred boots. "I dunno," he texted back.
"?"
Dean fired back, "Back soon" and closed his phone. When the next Christmas carol started—another even more familiar one—one sung by his mother oh so long ago, Dean opened his mouth and let the words come; his sultry tenor joining the host of other voices.
He slipped out the door as the last words of the last stanza melodiously slid across his lips. Jogging down the steps, he stuck out his tongue, catching a giant snowflake on its tip, smiling as it melted away to nothing.
FIN
