As soon as Dean wrapped bandanas around his injured forearms, he drove them quickly away from the home of the Carrigans, the two very dead pagan gods they had just taken out. Those pagan gods had killed three people in this town and who knew how many others through the years. Sam wrapped one bandana around his own wounded arm and gingerly wrapped his finger in another. Sam thought how weird it was to be in better spirits considering his arm was sliced up, the back of his head hurt like a mother, and the finger where the fingernail had been ripped from its bed by that pagan god, that son of a bitch, throbbed. Still, he had to admit, he was feeling a little less depressed. How whacked was that?
When Dean ejected the tape of rock and roll and turned on the radio to listen to Christmas carols, Sam groaned to himself. He shook his head as Dean sung what snatches of the songs he knew and, as always, sang them badly out of tune. His brother might be a damned kick-ass hunter, but his singing could make dogs howl and glass crack. When Jingle Bells came on the radio Dean glanced over at him and really burst out in song, a grin plastered on his face. Sam managed a pained smile back at him then turned his face to look out the side window. That wasn't much better as they passed house after house decorated in Christmas cheer. Carolers. There were freaking people out singing Christmas carols. He just wanted the hell out of this too white picket fence town.
Next year…next year he'd be alone. And every Christmas after that. Dean would be in Hell, being tortured for all eternity. How could Dean expect him to be cheerful and want a Christmas? Christmas had always been lame, especially after that one Christmas that he would just rather forget. The one when he learned monsters were real, Santa wasn't, monsters killed their mother, and he was convinced his father wasn't going to come back from his hunt. How could he celebrate anything? He winced when Dean started singing Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. He wanted to yell at Dean to stop it, just to God-damned stop it. But he couldn't. He hadn't seen Dean in this good of spirits in a while and he couldn't bring himself to do anything to dampen his older brother's cheer.
Dean wanted to slap his brother up side the head and tell him to stop being such a humbug or they'd end up having to kill those three ghosts of Christmas or something. His eyes drank in all the lights and decorations and animated figurines and blow-up figures that littered the yards of suburbia. When they passed a church, its lot filled with cars, Dean's eyes followed after it for a moment. He didn't do the church thing. He didn't have any faith in God or His angels but there was that one 'angel' gig that hinted at…maybe God occasionally did step in. He still didn't have an explanation for what he'd told Sam felt like the Will of God when that guy got killed that he was chasing down. Everything happened so perfectly, it just…he shrugged off the willies it still gave him when he thought about it too much.
He wondered if a damned, literally damned, man could go to church and tell God he was an asshole for letting his mom die, for letting his dad die, for letting his brother die. That yellow-eyed bastard had been behind all three events. Why didn't God step in then? That faith healer's wife made the reaper take that athlete instead of taking him. If Dean had died then, his father might still be alive. Maybe his dad could have saved Sam from dying when he couldn't. God was an ass. Saving a pathetic man like Dean instead of saving that girl with the brain tumor. Instead of protecting his father. For taking away his entire family, leaving Dean no choice but to barter his soul to at least save one person, the one most precious, the one he loved more than anything, more than anyone. His baby brother.
Not only had Dean brought his brother back, but he'd saved him, just like his father told him to. Sam didn't go all darkside, his powers from that yellow eyed bastard never rearing their heads again since Dean killed that demon. Now if he could just convince Sam that Ruby needed to go, like right the hell now. She was nothing but trouble.
If Dean stopped in the church, would God maybe…hear him? Miracles happened on Christmas Eve right? Pastor Jim had always said that. Animals talked, reindeer flew, and…Christmas was a pagan holiday stolen by the Church and Jesus had been born earlier in the year. With a twisted smile he wondered if maybe it was the same day as Sammy's birthday. That would be funny, wouldn't it? But everyone believed in Christmas miracles and just maybe, if he asked, maybe God's Will would be that he wouldn't go to Hell.
Yeah, right.
Dean pulled into the parking lot of the hotel and got out of the car. With those pagan gods dead, that mild winter they were having was disappearing and the temperature was dropping fast. He shivered as he retrieved the first aid kit from the trunk. He'd go out for food after they got themselves cleaned up, assuming he could still find some place open. They'd call around and find something even if it was peanut butter and jelly grabbed at the gas mart. Or maybe spaghetti-O's, Sam's favorite. Or Lucky Charms. Did they carry cereal like that at the gas mart? Probably not. Boston Market was what he really wanted though. Maybe there was one of those and maybe it was still open. He closed the trunk and followed his brother into the room.
Setting the first aid kit on the table, with a single glare he told Sam that Dean was going to tend to him first. Dean cleaned out the cut. The cut wasn't deep enough to need stitches, just some butterfly bandages would do the trick, but that son of a bitch…Sam's fingernail. Getting stabbed hurt. Getting cut hurt. But having your fingernail ripped out, that was practically right up there with getting shot and it took forever to stop being tender.
"Just a band aid, Dean. It'll be fine," Sam insisted when Dean pulled out the finger splint.
Dean snorted softly. "Okay, but you're going to wish I'd splinted it the first time you bang it."
Dean knew Sam would surely exercise the whole Marine vocabulary they had both learned from their dad when he did hit it against something, but if that's what his little brother wanted. Sam always had to learn things the hard way.
As soon as Dean was done, Sam was untying the bandanas from Dean's arms and cleaning the wounds there. Like his own, they weren't all that deep. Like his, a few butterfly bandages and some gauze and Dean was ready to take on the next big bad.
Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer was still twirling around in Dean's head and he found himself humming it while Sam fixed him up. He smirked when Sam rolled his eyes at him. When Sam was done patching him up, he grabbed the phone book
"Yes! There's a Boston Market!" Dean cried out in triumph after a brief hunt. He extracted his cell from his pocket and quickly dialed.
"Yeah, hey, how late you open? Yeah?" Dean glanced at his watched. "Where are you located? I'm at a motel on Seivers. Uhm, I'm kinda near that Santaland place. Yeah. Yeah. Turn right at the light, up a block. Got it. Okay, yeah give me two complete meals, the works. I'll be there as fast as I can. Will you wait if I'm a little late. Please? My little brother," he winked at Sam, "I just gotta get him the perfect Christmas Eve dinner, y'know? You are a sweetheart, darling. I'm on my way!" Dean ended the call and and gave a grin to Sam. "Boston Market, Dude. We're rocking. It's like fifteen or twenty minutes from here. So I'll be back in nothing flat. Maybe I'll even find a place that has some Funyuns for you."
Sam huffed. "Dean…"
"I know, I know, I'm an awesome brother." Dean slipped back out the door and hurried to the Impala. His breath was beginning to show in the chilling air. A white Christmas. Wouldn't that be cool? Even if Sam was all humbuggy and grinchy, Dean was going to at least have his perfect Christmas meal. Let Sam pout. He was just gonna have to deal. Sam could have another fifty Christmases. This was his last. He could at least have his meal and listen to Christmas carols, screw Scrooge. When he got in the car he looked back at the room, his brow creasing just a moment. He wished Sam would…didn't matter. He started up his baby.
"Least you and I, we can have our little Christmas, right baby?" he said to his car. "I'll clean you all up tomorrow. Maybe can't wax you, but I'll clean you up inside, make you all fine, fine enough for Santa. If Santa had any sense he'd be driving himself a red '67 Impala. Impalas, that's kinda like a reindeer, right? Maybe eight Impalas pulling his sleigh," Dean chuckled, "with a red one out front, just like Rudolph." He laughed as he began bellowing out "Rudolph the Red Impala, had some very shiny chrome…"
The Impala, meanwhile, simply purred under him as it took him to get his Christmas dinner.
He made it to the store with about three minutes to spare, and after flirting with the brunette behind the counter, paid for dinner. As he reached to grab the bags he chuckled when she handed him two candy canes. He stuck them in his pocket and headed back to the car. Across the street was another church, packed for Christmas Eve mass. He stared across at the church for a minute then set the food in the car and walked across the street. The meal would stay hot long enough.
He paused outside the church and looked it over. Bright lights shone from inside illuminating the stained glass windows. The church was old stone, kinda pretty really if you went for those things. It reminded him just a little of Pastor Jim's church. After a moment of hesitation, he walked inside. He chuckled, hearing the choir singing Silent Night. So those were the words to the song that he and Sam tried to sing to that old Santa in the trailer when they tried to cover their screw up. He slipped into the last row, a young boy scooting over so Dean could sit down. The boy reminded him of Sam when Sam was six.
He remembered the couple Christmases they'd had at Pastor Jim's. Jim had a great big tree in his home and that was back when Sammy still believed in Santa…when he still believed in Santa…kinda. He'd gotten a baseball and baseball glove that one year and a skateboard another year. And clothes of course. But the clothes were cool, especially because they'd been new clothes. Not Salvation Army or Goodwill seconds. Real, honest to God new clothes. Even a cool winter coat that was way too big on him but he grew into it. He was startled out of his thoughts when the choir stopped singing and the old pastor or priest or reverend, whatever he was, asked them to bow their heads in prayer. He ignored whatever the preacher was rambling on about. He had his own things to say.
You're an ass. A jerk. You hear me God? Taking my brother away, making me sell my soul, making me go to Hell 'cause I love my brother and you can't keep you own god-damned house in order and clean of demons, letting yellow eyes ruin my life, our lives. Letting that Jinn tease me with a life I couldn't ever have. Making my family fight evil cause you're too fucking lazy to get off your ass and do something about it. Why us God, why'd it always have to be us? Why couldn't Sammy have had a home, and friends, and not fight with Dad just because he wanted a normal, safe life. And then you even took that away from him, took that hot sweet babe away from him, making him into…the boy who hates Christmas. Not fair God, not fair to him, to us. I just want…I just want this one last Christmas to be special. Me and Sam. Being brothers. Enjoying our victory over the evil sons of bitches we killed. It that too fucking much to ask? One perfect Christmas. Just once? You ain't getting a second shot at this. My next Christmas I'm gonna be…gonna be twisting and burning in Hell cause you can't do your job. Just once…
Dean didn't hear the 'amen' and didn't look up until the choir start singing 'Hallelujah." He snorted softly. Yeah. Hallelujah, bite me, God.
Pushing himself to his feet, he gave a small smile to the Sammy look alike. He reached in his pocket and felt the candy canes. He grinned and pulled them out and held then out to the boy. "Merry Christmas, kiddo," he said softly and gave a nod to the boy's parents. The boy's face lit up at seeing the candy canes and after his parents gave him the okay, gripped them his small hand.
"Merry Christmas," the boy said shyly.
Dean's grin broadened and he strode out of the church and crossed the street to his car. As he was headed back to the motel, he passed Juvenile Hall. All those kids in there, they probably wouldn't have much of a Christmas. Sucked being alone, without family, on Christmas. Even if you weren't alone, but still really kinda were.
Spinning the steering wheel he headed back up the street to the big Supermart he'd passed a few minutes before. They had a microwave in that little motel room. The food would reheat. After parking as close as he could, he dashed inside, grabbing two carts. He practically ran to the toy aisle. He scooped Barbies and stuffed animals and Legos and action figures and baseballs and games into the cart until it was overflowing. Hell, he couldn't wrap them or anything but he saw Christmas bags and grabbed stacks of them, then hit the candy aisle and just grabbed some of the whole boxes of bags of chocolate coins and candy canes, then went to the clothing section and tossed in t-shirts of all sizes and socks and jeans and flannels and hurried to the checkout, waiting impatiently in line.
He tossed the cartloads of stuff onto the counter and watched as they were all rung up. Well that was going to toast that new credit card he'd scammed. Hell, he could get another. Christmas just came once. Just once.
"You've got some Christmas planned," the older man at the register said.
Dean shrugged. "Kids at Juvi, they deserve something."
Surprise colored the man's face. "All this is for them?"
"Except for one box of candy canes. That's for me and my brother. And maybe a bag of chocolate," Dean said with a grin.
The man gave him a smile. "Not many would do this."
Dean's smile wavered a little. "My last Christmas. Gonna make it right for someone," he said softly. He couldn't believe he just told some stranger that he was going to die.
The older man cocked an eyebrow at the young man before him. "How long you got?"
Dean shrugged. "Spring."
"Cancer?"
Dean's eyes grew a little distant. His last day. May 15. Two weeks after his little brother's birthday. He blinked. "Something like that," he said pulling his wallet out. "What's the damage?"
The man finished ringing Dean up. "You know, I've been here for twenty some years now. Never seen anyone drop so much for some kids he doesn't even know. You in Juvi as a kid?"
Dean laughed. "No, but I probably should have been. I just never got caught."
The old man grinned back. "Yep. I remember those days myself. Your total comes to three dollars and twelve cents."
Doing a double take, Dean looked at the total on the register, the overflowing carts, and back to the man at the register. "What?"
"For the candy canes and chocolate. Three twelve." He handed Dean a bag with said items in it.
He stared at the man for a minute then handed over a five. "Keep the change," he said, a little mystified.
"Merry Christmas," the old man said with a wink. "Privileges of being the store owner."
Nodding, still in shock, he took the carts, grinning. "Merry Christmas," Dean said and hurried out to the car, tossing everything into the back seat, still shaking his head in disbelief. People really did that shit on Christmas? Just gave stuff away? This was like probably a thousand dollars worth of stuff! …It didn't occur to him he had been about to do the same….
He drove over to Juvi Hall, quickly unloaded the goodies, setting them on the steps of the building, then pounded on the door and rang the buzzer half a dozen times before dashing back to his car and slipping inside. Waiting in the car, he watched, making sure someone came to the door. When the door opened, he saw the shocked look on the man's face. Dean's grin practically split his own face in two and he hit the gas, cranking the Christmas carols as he peeled out of there.
So maybe his Christmas wasn't going to be perfect but that ought to help those kids' Christmas be a little better.
He finally pulled back into the parking lot of the motel and was surprised when the door opened and Sam stepped out. "Dude, we're out of beer. Can you go grab a six pack before the store's closed?"
"Sammy, why the hell didn't you call me?" Dean said, exasperated. As if the food wasn't already on its way to being cold.
"Sorry, I just realized we were out when I went to get one while I was waiting on you."
Dean handed over the bags from Boston Market. "Fine. I'll be right back." Sam hadn't even asked what took him so long. Probably figured he stopped at a bar or something. Well, let him think that. Wasn't like he was going to own up to stopping at church and then buying presents for all the juvenile delinquents and kids needing fostered out who probably wouldn't have gotten a Christmas otherwise.
"I'll be right back," Dean said, sighing. He got back in the car and headed down to the gas mart. They'd have beer.
Dean was greeted with a "Merry Christmas!" from a pretty little teeny-bopper behind the counter. He grabbed a six pack of Sam's favorite beer; maybe that would at least make Sam less grumpy. The magazine rack caught his eye. He hadn't gotten anything for Sam for Christmas. Well, Sam might not want to celebrate, but that didn't mean Dean couldn't get him something. He glanced through a few skin magazines and finally settled on two. He chuckled to himself. He knew Sammy looked through his skin mags and had since he was fourteen. High time he some of his own. The kid was twenty-five for god's sake. Turning around he saw Sam's favorite shaving cream on the shelf. Perfect.
He carried the beer and presents up to the counter. "Can you put them in separate bags? Keep the mags together." He spotted a small bag of Funyuns and said, "Put those in with the beer."
"Sure!" the girl said brightly. As she rang up the magazines she looked over the handsome man before her. "Can't believe you'd need these," she said coyly.
Dean gave her a charming smile. "They're for my little brother."
She nodded with a knowing smile. "Uh-huh."
"He's a geek. Needs all the pointers he can get," Dean said, smirking as he paid the girl.
"Come back soon. Merry Christmas," she sighed. She decided that piece of eye candy might have completely made up for being stuck working Christmas Eve.
"You too," he said and headed back out to his car and realized it had begun to snow. Dean paused and looked up at the street light where it was easiest to see the soft flakes begin to drift down. The thought of them really getting a white Christmas cheered him for some reason. He supposed simply because that's the way it was supposed to be.
Reaching the motel he opened the door, startled to see the Christmas tree, the decorations and…eggnog?? He heard the microwave in the background, heating up their dinner. When the hell…? How the hell…?
Maybe God wasn't a complete asshole after all.