Title: My Christmas Wish
Summary: It's Christmas time, and Sammy's playing Scrooge. In desperation, Dean makes a wish, and, well, we all know the saying "be careful what you wish for." Obviously, Christmas is gonna be pretty interesting this year...
Warnings: Only spoilers for Devil's Trap and In my Time of Dying
Disclaimer: Well, the idea is mine, but the characters belong to some guy names Kripke. Go figure...
My Christmas Wish
December 24, 1987
Des Moines, Iowa
"He's not coming," four-year-old Sam Winchester moaned, staring out the window with large green eyes as light snow blanketed the parking lot of that year's seedy holiday motel.
"He'll be here," the little boy's brother Dean replied as he flipped through the old black and white TV's few grainy channels, "he's just running a little late is all."
"It's Christmas Eve," Sammy pointed out, "and he forgot again."
Dean rolled his eyes, finally settling on a station. "He doesn't forget, Sammy," the eight-year-old argued, "he just comes back late sometimes. It doesn't matter, though, 'cause he always brings us presents."
It was the younger boy's turn to roll his eyes. "Magnets and keychains from gas stations don't count. 'Asides, I want a puppy."
"Dad's not getting you a dog, kiddo," Dean grinned, "now stop fogging up the window and come watch TV. It'll get your mind off dad."
Sighing heavily, shoulders slumping, Sammy trudged away from the frosted window and climbed up onto the bed beside his big brother. He sighed again, a sure sign of annoyance, as Dean flashed a large grin.
The Winchester brothers sat on the grimy bed in the even grimier motel room for a while, watching as all the Whos in Whoville began to sing.
"You know," Dean smiled when he heard another heavy sigh from his brother's side of the bed, "all those presents and trees and that fat guy in the suit are way overrated. I mean, this holiday is the boringest one ever. Everybody eats the same, acts the same, watches the same three movies over and over again, and celebrates the same."
"Not us," Sam groaned, "we're different." He said the final word with more than just a slight hint of disgust in his voice.
Dean frowned. "Of course we're different. We're special. And you know what? That's a good thing."
"How's it good? We're freaks."
"It means we get to start our own Christmas tradition," the older boy smiled, wrapping a thin arm around his little brother's small shoulders.
"What's a damition?"
Dean chuckled. He hated to laugh at Sammy, who had a nasty habit of getting mad at people when they offended him. He'd once dumped Spaghetti-Os all over Dean's lap when the older boy had made fun of him for a butchered pronunciation of his favorite food. "A tradition," he said gently, "is something that people do every year, no matter what. Like eating turkey, or opening presents."
"What can we do?" Sam asked, "we're stuck in a motel."
Dean shrugged, wishing he could just give the kid the normal Christmas he wanted, instead of some poorly improvised substitute. "We'll… do this," he offered, "every Christmas Eve, no matter what we're doing or what dad says, you and me are gonna drop everything and watch," he glanced quickly up at the TV to see a classic holiday villain cutting his curtains into a Santa suit, "we'll watch 'The Grinch.'"
Sammy looked skeptically at the fuzzy black and white images dancing across the screen. "Won't it get old?"
"That's the beauty of Christmas, buddy. They only show the movie for a couple of weeks each year, and if we only watch it on the twenty-fourth we'll probably end up forgetting half the movie before next year!"
The younger boy smiled and slid off the bed to turn up the volume. He was content with what he had, and that, for the moment, was enough for both of them.
o0o0o0o0o
December 23, 2006
Rapid Falls, Colorado
The door burst open, sending a swirl of soft white snowflakes scattering across the dark blue carpet of one of the nicest rooms the Winchester brothers had ever had the fortune to find. Dean staggered into the room, jacket pulled tightly around him for warmth, and struggled to close the door as the wind picked up.
"Freakin' storm of the century," he muttered as he gazed around the small room, "gotta be four inches on the ground now, at least."
"Weather report calls for more," Sam noted as he scoured the internet for the quickest path out of Rapid Falls, "if we don't get a move on, we'll get snowed in for sure, and we can kiss that ghoul hunt in Wyoming good-bye."
"There's no way I'm going back out in that," Dean said, "the ghoul can wait. Not like it's going anywhere."
"And neither are we, huh?" Sam asked dejectedly, shutting the laptop and eyeing his brother, who was dripping melting snow all over the carpet.
"Not until after Christmas, at least. Come on, Sam, it'll be fun. Just like 'The Shining.' You be Danny, I'll be Jack."
"We'll need a Wendy," Sam pointed out, pulling back the thick curtains that covered the windows and staring out at the white landscape.
Dean shrugged, slipping out of his jacket and boots. "We'll give Jo a call, get her up here, and I can beat her with mallet."
Sammy grinned, turning to his brother. "Do the world a favor?"
"They'd hold a parade in my honor once word got global, and that shouldn't take too long, considering the massive fanbase she's got going on the internet."
Sam shook his head, plopped down on one of the room's two beds, and sighed. Another year, another Christmas. At least this time there was snow, and the absence of a holiday hunt. For the first time in a long time, he would be able to spend a semblance of a normal family holiday with his brother (even if Dean did have homicide on his mind).
That was when Sam noticed the box, just as he was starting to drift down into sleep. Dean was trying to shove it nonchalantly into a drawer, trying to hide it.
"What's that?" Sam asked, sitting up.
"What's what?" Dean replied innocently, blocking the drawer with his body.
"That box. It looked like you were trying to hide it."
"Oh," the elder mumbled, turning and pulling the drawer open, "this. Yeah, well, it was kinda supposed to be a surprise." He held out a small, slim, badly-wrapped package. "Merry Christmas."
Sammy eyed the box. "It's the twenty-third," he said, laying back down, "and you didn't have to get me anything."
"Sure I did," Dean defended, "you're my brother. Besides, you don't have to open it today. You can wait."
"I'm not gonna open it, period."
"Well, aren't you a mean one, Mr. Grinch?"
"You know I've never really liked Christmas."
Dean nodded. "Or Halloween, or Easter, or Valentine's Day, or Thanksgiving. Hell, Sammy, you even hate Flag Day."
Sam sighed, rolling onto his stomach on the bed. "We never got what other kids got, Dean, and I know it pisses you off, too. I mean, the least dad could have done was spend a holiday or two with us."
"He did," Dean pointed out.
"Right," Sam scoffed, "I forgot about that black dog that nearly mauled you Thanksgiving '97, of the werewolf on Christmas the year before that."
"Well, you don't have to worry about that this year, do you?" Dean snapped, "dad's not here to ruin your holidays anymore."
Sam moaned into his pillow. It was going to be their first Christmas without their father, and though nothing seemed different to him, it looked like Dean was taking it hard. "Look," Sam offered, rolling back over to face his brother, who had returned the gift to its drawer, "I'm sorry. It's just that I never really had a Christmas until I met Jess, and now-"
"It just seems wrong," Dean finished, "yeah, I got that." He sat down on the other bed and sighed heavily, burying his face in his hands. "You can't just avoid the most popular holiday of the year, though. I mean, all things Stanford aside, your holidays couldn't have sucked that bad."
Sammy shook his head. "Dad was never there, we got crappy presents if we were lucky. When I went off to school-"
"You got everything you'd ever wanted?"
"No. I mean, I missed a whole childhood, Dean. We got knives and guns for Christmas while normal kids got Hot Wheels cars and teddy bears."
"You turned out fine," Dean pointed out.
Sam sighed, laying back on the bed. "I just don't want to celebrate this year, all right?"
"Whatever, dude," Dean muttered, flipping off the lamp and struggling under the covers in the darkness.
It had been a long time since they had spent an actual Christmas together. The year before hadn't really counted, not with Sam drowning his sorrows in some run-down bar in Arizona while Dean had sat in the motel room, watching 'The Grinch' and waiting patiently for his brother's return. The elder had been hoping that things would get better between them, that maybe this year would be different. But their father was dead and Sammy was still playing Scrooge.
Dean closed his eyes and drifted down toward sleep, deciding to at least try and carry on the single tradition he'd laboriously kept alive over the years, even if Sam didn't want to be there to share it with him.
Sometimes, he thought to himself as darkness took him, I just wish I could give that kid the Christmas he wants.
So, as always, reviews are appreciated and keep me writing for future generations (and those of you who are wondering, my sequel to "On Angel's Wings" was put on hiatus for a while so I could type this one. Well, guess Dean can get hsi wings back now, huh? Look for it eventually.)