Have you ever had one of those dreams that just won't go away? You know the kind that no matter what you do it haunts you until you take the time to write it out. Well that's what happened to me and this is what came of it. I don't normally like to do things that interrupt the flow of the story but in this case it was somewhat necessary. You will notice when this occurs and I hope that what I was trying to get across comes through. I would love to hear your thoughts, whether good or bad, and hope that you enjoy reading this.
Snow fell in thick heavy flakes from the dark December sky. Couples walked along the snow covered sidewalks arms wrapped around each other, their laughter floating along the chilled winter breeze. Clusters of men and women, young and old, stood on street corners greeting those who passed by with choruses of Christmas Carols; while children stood, dreamy eyed, in front of the local stores looking in at the bright displays of toys, candy and other items that were sure to be on their wish lists.
A white sleigh with bells glided smoothly along the snow packed Main Street, stopping now and then to drop off or pick up new riders. Norman Rockwell had nothing on this town when it came to displaying the perfect Christmas scene; at least on its surface. But, a few streets over a completely different scene played out.
The snow still fell in thick heavy flakes and couples stilled walked the snow covered sidewalks; but, there were no Carolers, no children looking in at bright displays and no white sleigh. Instead, bars lined the street and ladies of the night were out and about looking for their next john. Crowds of rowdy drunks stood on the street corners harassing anyone who walked by.
A man walked, alone, hunched over to help guard against the chilled breeze. He pulled his worn leather jacket tight and flipped the collar up, hoping that would offer some relief from the cold. Stopping in front of one of the bars he snickered at a sign that hung on the door, 'Welcome to O'Malley's home of Jackson County's Pool Champion, 3 years running.'
Blowing on his hands, then rubbing them together, the stranger said to himself, "This place will do. Hopefully the champ is in; they tend to bet more on their games." Smiling, he pushed the door open and entered the establishment.
Looking around he noted that this bar resembled all the other dives he had frequented over the years. Smoke from cigarettes and the strong smell of alcohol hung thickly in the air. The lighting was dim, offering the patrons a safe place to drown their sorrows and to sink into the welcome oblivion of drunkenness. 'Yes this place will surely do,' the man thought to himself.
Sideling up to the bar he plastered on his most charming smile, "Can I get a beer," he asked the aging bar tender. He looked at her and could see that at one time he would have thought her pretty, but now because of the effects of time and wear from a hard lived life, he would think her haggard and used up.
The woman looked up; the irritation which had been clouding her dull blue eyes melting quickly away when she took in the appearance of the handsome stranger who had interrupted her reading. "Sure ya can sweetie," she said in a voice that had been made husky from years of smoking. "Can I get ya anything else, honey," she asked as her eyes hungrily drank him in.
Smiling he nodded, "Yeah, I saw the sign on the door. I was wondering could you tell me if the Pool Champion is here. I would kind of like to meet him," he looked down shyly, "You know a real local celebratory and all."
"Sure thing, cutie, he's in the pool room round back. Name's, Justin," She handed the man his beer then leaned over her smile fading as she became serious, "But, don't you go playing him dear, that man is the best in the county and he won't think twice about taking your money."
"Thanks. And, don't worry, I promise I wont lose any money to him." Setting a twenty down on the bar he smiled at the woman, "Here ya go, keep the change."
The woman watched as the attractive stranger angled his way to the back of the bar. She jumped when she felt someone walk up beside her and say her name. "Hey, Earth to Wanda," the person next to her said, "Who was that dreamboat?"
Turning to her fellow bar tender Wanda shrugged, "I don't know, Sally, but I wish I did."
Entering the pool room the man looked around. The room was lit by lights that hung low over each of the three pool tables. The lights were long fluorescent bulbs covered by a stained glass shade. Tables, that stood mostly empty except for those that were positioned by the farthest pool table, lined the walls. A group of men sat sipping their drinks while they watched another man knock the remaining pool ball into a side pocket.
The group let a cheer and stood to gather around their local hero. "Way to go Justin," a man called out as he walked over to where a lone man stood. Stepping right into the other man's personal space he reached out his hand and sneered, "I guess that will teach you to come into our bar thinking you can best ole Justin here. Now pay up, that'll be three hundred."
The men had been so engrossed in what was going on that they didn't become aware of the new arrival until he spoke up, "Justin? The, Justin? Wow what an honor. I came in tonight hoping to meet you, but wow now that I have, well, just let me say, wow."
The men all turned and stared at him with the one who had been asking for the money walking over to now stand in front of him. The man looked the new-comer up and down before he spoke, "You're not from around here are you?"
The stranger shook his head and his green eyes sparkled, "Nope, I was just passing through when I had heard about how O'Malley's was home to the Jackson County Pool Champ and I decided I really needed to meet him. I love pool, play a bit myself, but I have never met a real Champion before."
"Well, I guess tonight's your lucky night, than aint it," the man paused and looked expectantly at the visitor.
Picking up on the cue the man filled in the blank, "Dean. The name's Dean."
"Well, Dean," the local said as he put his hands on Dean's shoulder's, "You got to meet the champ, so why don't you mosey on out of here. You see the champ's a little busy right now. Maybe you can come back tomorrow."
Dean let out a sigh, "Gee, I won't be here tomorrow. I was hoping to play a game or two with him. You know, see if I could maybe pick up a few pointers on how to play better. But, if he's busy."
"Wait," a gruff voice said from the small group of men. Dean smiled and thought, 'I've got him hooked now all I have to do is reel him in.' Justin stepped up beside the two men and looked Dean over. He turned to his friend, looked at the man who owed them money, then back to his friend. "You know Cal; we wouldn't want to tarnish our little town's friendly reputation," he looked at Dean, "Why don't you finish up with Harvey there, while I see if I can't accommodate our new friend's request."
Dean smiled, 'Hooked and reeled in. Now all I have to do is win.' He followed Justin to the pool table, picked out a pool stick then watched as Justin racked the balls. Justin nodded to Dean, "Well seeing as you are the guest here why don't you take the first shot?"
Nodding back Dean took the first shot; he didn't sink any of the balls. Justin smirked, "Hey why don't we make this more interesting?"
"What do you mean, like betting or something," Dean asked making sure his voice and expression held the right amount of apprehension.
"Yeah, just a friendly little wager, say a couple hundred," Justin asked, he could practically feel the money in his hand. Deep down he knew he should feel guilty, but then again, if they were dumb enough to bet against the Jackson County Champ, that was their problem.
"Gee, I don't know. You know it's almost Christmas and I still have some things to by my little brother," Dean said than thought to himself, 'Like a new laptop.'
"That's all the more reason to take the bet. Seriously," Justin smiled at his latest victim, "Who knows you could win and then you'll double the money for some really good presents."
"Well…."Dean allowed himself to show that he was "thinking" about it, "I guess you're right. Okay, a couple hundred it is."
"Good," Justin said then he took his shot. Justin played with all skill of a champion until his final shot. He missed and the table was turned over to Dean.
Taking a deep breath, Dean lined up his first shot and easily made it. After that he managed to clear the table in no time, thus winning the game. Turning to Justin he masked his face in mock shock, "Wow, I don't know how I did that. I mean I never played that well before. You must have been having an off night. Look why don't we forget the bet. I mean it was an honor to play you. We can leave it at that."
Dean felt a strong hand grip his arm. He stopped his walk to the exit and turned to look at Justin. Justin let go of his arm and pulled a wad of money from his pants pocket. He pulled out two, one hundred dollar bills and shoved them hard into Dean's chest. Dean took the money, thanked the man for the game and left pool room and bar.
Cal walked up to Justin, "Hey, why'd you let him get away with that. You realize you were hustled don't ya?"
Justin turned on Cal his eyes blazing. "Yeah, I realize I've been hustled," he seethed, "I didn't want to make a scene here at O'Malley's, the old man's been good to us." Justin's cell rang, "Yeah, you followed him. Where's he at now? Good, keep a tail on him. Yeah, that's right. Call me when he get's to wherever he's staying." Justin snapped his phone closed, "I guess now we wait."
Dean entered the run done motel room that he and his brother were currently staying in, his precious package tucked safely under his arm. The money he had hustled off of Justin was just enough to make up for the gap in funds needed to buy the laptop he had seen Sam looking at earlier that morning. Thinking of Sam caused him to wonder where his little brother had gotten to.
Sighing he sat on his bed and took the box out of the bag. He smiled as he looked at the picture of the laptop that was tucked inside. He couldn't blame Sam for being mad, not this time. It was an accident after all, but, still he shouldn't have thrown that pillow at Sam. He replayed the incident in his head, he saw the pillow as it sailed through the air, hit the laptop and knocked it off the table onto the hard motel room's floor. He could hear the cracking and crunching of the machine as it broke apart upon impact.
Dean hung his head, "I'm sorry, Sammy," he said to the empty room. He knew that nothing could make up for the loss of the other computer, it had been a gift from Jessica, but he hoped at least this new one would help. He shoved the box back in the bag and placed it under his bed. He reached for the televisions remote but ended up answering his cell when he heard it ring. "Sammy? Yeah, I could use something to eat," a knock on the door interrupted him, "Hold on Sammy, someone's at the door." Dean made his way over to the door only to have it kicked forcibly in, hitting him hard on the left shoulder. "Son of a bitch," he exclaimed as he felt himself fall hard onto the floor.
From his cell phone Dean could hear his brother frantically calling for him, but he was a little to busy curling in on himself as he tried to protect his head and stomach from the brutal onslaught of punches and kicks that rained down on him. He felt himself being picked up off the floor and slammed into a wall. A sturdy arm placed itself across his chest and an angry voice filled his ears just before he felt a sharp pain on the side of his head and the world went black, "You're gonna learn what happens to those who hustle in our town."
Sam sat in the passenger seat of Bobby Singer's car his fear for his brother growing as he listened to the sounds of an obvious fight over his cell's connection. Sam turned to Bobby when the line went dead. Bobby could tell by the look of panic and shock on his young friends face that something was seriously wrong.
"Sam," Bobby said, "Hey, Sam, what's the matter? Is it Dean? What has that idgit done now?"
Sam shook his head, "Bobby, we were just talking. He said someone was at the door and then I heard a loud crack, like someone had kicked the door in. I could hear Dean, he was moaning and groaning, it sounded like someone was beating him up. I heard someone say that he was gonna learn what happens to hustlers. Bobby, you don't think.." Sam stopped his voice cracking with emotion. Taking a deep breath Sam steadied his nerves, "Bobby, you don't think that this time he picked the wrong mark."
"Wouldn't be the first time the idgit did something like that," Bobby looked at Sam and shrugged, "What? You don't remember Tulsa or Santa Fe and let's not forget….."
"I get it Bobby," Sam huffed out.
"All I'm saying is this has happened before. We'll get back to the room; find him a little roughed up. We'll patch him up and move onto the next town."
Sam looked at Bobby; he couldn't believe that his old friend could be so cavalier about this. He knew Bobby was right, this wouldn't be the first or even the last time his brother picked a wrong mark, but that still didn't make it right. Sam hated this life. He hated hunting. He longed for a day when he and his brother could live normal lives, work normal jobs for money, not have to lie, cheat or steal in order to survive. He knew the work they did was important, but he still longed for a day when it would be all over.
Bobby pulled into the motel's parking lot parking his truck besides Dean's beloved Impala. Sam flung the passenger's door open and sprang from the truck. He skidded to a halt when he saw the shattered frame of the room's door. His chest tightened when he entered the room and saw the destruction and blood that lay splattered around the room. He felt himself getting weak, his legs gave out and he started to fall to the floor. Bobby had wrapped his arms around the young hunter's waist and led him to the last chair standing upright.
"Oh, god, Bobby, what happened here," Sam shakily asked his eyes growing moist with unshed tears.
"I don't know. It looks like your brother really stepped in it this time."
Sam gritted his teeth, "Not helping, Bobby."
"I know, look I'm sorry. What do you say we go looking see if we can't find what bar he happened to be working, you know, find out who he swindled."
"Yeah, sounds like a plan. We find out who he hustled, we can find out where he is," Sam stood up from the chair and headed to Bobby's truck.
Bobby took a look around the room. He noticed Dean's cell on the floor it looked as if someone had stomped on it. He then noticed something sticking out from under his bed, kneeling by the bed he pulled the bag out from under it and a lump caught in his throat. "You damned fool," Bobby whispered. He pushed up off the floor and hurried out to his truck where a very impatient Sam sat honking the horn.
An hour later they were racing along narrow country dirt roads as fast as the icy conditions would allow. Each of them lost in their own worry and fear after having talked to Wanda the bar tender at O'Malley's. They replayed the conversation over and over. Their hearts sinking deeper and deeper as her words came back to them…'I warned him, she said. He didn't listen, she said. If he hustled Justin there would be one place they would have taken him; Justin's hunting cabin. You better hurry boy, I hate to tell you, but if your brother hustled him, Justin will make sure he don't get the chance to hustle anyone ever again.'
Bobby looked over to Sam, "We'll get him back, Sam. We will."
"I hope so," Sam quietly whispered, "It was just last year we spent what we thought would be our last Christmas together. I can't go through that again, Bobby, I can't."
Bobby hits the gas and his truck speeds forward.
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I need to stop here and explain a little something. This part is the inspiration to this story. It is a dream that I have been having for a short time now. It will play out like a montage that you see in a movie or on a television show. The song that plays during this montage is "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas".
Dean lay on the cold cement floor of the log cabins garage. His breathing is shallow and interrupted by fits of coughing that have him spitting up blood. His face is swollen and bruised. Blood runs down the left side of face. He is curled into a ball, his arms wrapped protectively around his mid-section. He can hear the men talking and he begins to shake as he realizes that it's not gonna be demon's who are the death of him this time, but Justin and his crony's.
The garage door opens and Justin enters. He's holding Dean's favorite gun in his right hand. He smiles as he sees the recognition that flashes in Dean's eyes when he sees his own gun pointed at him. There's a loud commotion from inside the cabin which prevents Justin from pulling the trigger. Sam and Bobby run through the open garage door and slide to a stop, their hearts pounding in their chests when they see Justin holding Dean in front of him, his gun pointed to his head. Justin tells them he's leaving and if they try to stop him he will finish what he started.
Sam and Bobby back away their hands raised up. They watch with worried eyes as Justin hits the switch on the garage door opener and the heavy door starts to lift. They take a step forward only to stop when Justin pushed the barrel of the gun harder against Dean's temple.
The door is open (the song is almost over the last lines are playing 'Through the years we all will be together. If the fates allow') Justin spins Dean around so he can see his face. He pulls the gun away from his head and fires one shot into his stomach. A satisfied smile creeps over his face as he watches Dean fall, before he turns and runs.
Sam yells no ('Hang a shining star above the highest bough.') He and Bobby run to Dean's side as the last line plays out ('And, have yourself a merry little Christmas now').
"No! No, not again. I won't loose you again. Damn it Dean, don't you leave me," Sam cried out as he cradled his brother's body close to him. He felt for a pulse and was a little relieved when he found one, but it isn't as strong as he would have preferred. He gently picked his brother up off the floor and carried him to Bobby's truck as the segregate father pulled up right outside the garage's open door.
Bobby helped him get Dean inside the trucks cab and then climbed behind the wheel. He drove as fast as he safely could back into town and to the nearest hospital. He pulled the truck up the hospital's emergency entrance and ran inside calling out for anyone to come help him. A flurry of medical personnel followed him out to his truck and before he could fully grasp what was happening he found himself following a crowd of people back into the hospital.
The group stopped and a nurse came back to where Bobby was standing. She gently took his arm and pulled up to where Dean laid barely consciousness on the gurney. She turned her eyes onto the older man and smiled a sad smile, "He has something he wants to say to you."
Bobby stepped up next to the gurney and placed his ear as close to his young friend's mouth as he could. His heart stopped when Dean began to speak, "Bobby, there's something under my bed for Sammy, can you give it to him. Tell him I'm sorry."
Bobby stepped back and watched as Dean was whisked through the swinging doors and out of sight. Taking a step back he turned and headed for the waiting room and the long vigil he was sure to come.
A week later, Bobby knelt down on the floor and once again pulled out the bag with the new laptop. He felt the tears as they slid down his face. He found himself saying, "You damn fool. Was it worth all this to get the money you needed to buy Sam this?" Bobby pushed up off the floor, tucked the bag under his arm and headed back to his truck.
Bobby stepped off the elevator and headed toward the room numbered 211. He stood by the door for a moment and looked inside, his heart warmed at the sight before him. Sam sat on his brother's bed a smile on his face as he watched his brother try to charm the nurse into giving him her number.
Bobby stepped into the room and cleared his throat. The boys looked up at him and Dean's face lit up when he saw the bag. Bobby walked to the other side of the bed and handed Dean the bag.
Dean lowered his eyes then looked back up at his reason for living, "Sammy, I'm sorry. I know after last year this wasn't was the way you had wanted to spend Christmas. I'm sorry that I broke your laptop. I know how much it meant to you. I know that nothing can replace it, I just hope that maybe this will help."
Sam looked at the bag, than back to his brother. His eyes misted over, "Thanks, man. I shouldn't have gotten as angry as I did with you." He opened the bag and his eyes grew wide when he saw what it contained. Sam looked at Dean and at that moment he realized just how much he truly meant to his brother, and just how much his brother truly meant to him. "Thanks, Dean, this is great. But," and Sam looked at the new computer he held in his hands, "It's not as great as having you for a big brother."
"Merry Christmas, Sammy."
"Merry Christmas, Dean."