All was silent in the car as they drove back to the motel. Neither of them were near calm, and the Christmas lights they passed weren't all that bright. Sam sighed and laid his head against the window, wishing he could hit it harder without it really hurting him or Dean getting on his case.
They'd been dead wrong about the Santa. SO very wrong. They were morons; when had they gotten so stupid? Research the person first, THEN go barging in. They were losing their touch, and it was gonna get them caught or worse.
What really bugged him was how they'd managed to get out. The guy had to have been drunk off his rocker to think that they were actually carolers. They'd been beyond moronic tonight. He wanted to just blame the random thoughts of that Christmas years ago when he'd found out the truth, but he really couldn't. Couldn't blame just that for their blunder. No, the main reason behind the screw-up tonight was that he'd had far too much else on his mind, the memories of Christmas Past included.
Demon savior. The Boy King. Sam shut his eyes tight at the thought. He wasn't any sort of savior; he couldn't be. He was just Sam Winchester, hunter and little geek brother. That was all he wanted to be. That, and human.
Who knew what demon blood inside a person did, though?
Sometimes, the walls were closing in so tight around him he couldn't even breathe. He wondered how the hell Dean was holding up; he knew that Dean knew about what the demons were whispering. What they kept saying about Sam. And that thought pushed the walls even closer around him.
They were both off their game; it wasn't just Sam. Maybe Dean was more worried about leaving Sam behind then he let on. Maybe the deal was weighing on his mind just as heavily as it was on Sam's. Maybe he thought Sam was going to lead the army of demons, too. Maybe the reason he'd messed up so badly tonight was-
"Silent night..."
Sam blinked and turned towards Dean, who was quietly and hesitatingly singing. Sam blinked some more when Dean kept going. "Holy night..."
"Uh, Dean?"
"Shut up, Sam," was growled, before his voice turned sweet again. "All is calm..."
"Dean!"
"All is bright...I said, shut up!"
"What are you doing?"
Dean sighed and turned to glare at Sam. "I know that carol. I KNOW it! So why the hell did I forget it back there?"
Sam was trying desperately not to roll his eyes, but the urge was becoming too strong to ignore. "Because we were a little confused and disoriented as it was, considering Santa wasn't the Santa we were looking for? You don't have to prove that you know the song to me, Dean."
Dean muttered something uncomplimentary under his breath. Sam let out another sigh. "Dean-"
"Round yon virgin, mother and child," Dean sang, no longer hesitant or quiet. "Holy infant so tender and mild." He glanced over at Sam, before smirking and saying, "See, that's how I knew you were just a regular little baby, nothing special: there was no tenderness or mildness when you were born, or when you were growing up."
The smirk stayed up, but the concern and love and faith was there for all to see, and Sam suddenly found that he could finally, finally, breathe again. The walls had been pushed away by his heroic big brother.
Dean believed in him. Dean wasn't freaking out over Sam's destiny, wasn't worried about what the demons kept saying. He was more worried about Sam getting hurt, still, after all of this.
Dean turned back to the road, singing again, and Sam's voice rose to join his.
"Sleep in heavenly peace, sleep in heavenly peace."
