Christmas can be one of the hardest times of the year, and the Winchesters have never been known to do things the easy way. Can they have a merry Christmas or will it just be another year ending in bitterness and loneliness?
Merry Christmas, everyone! I hope you love this story, and hope it helps you catch the Christmas spirit...I know it can be hard!
CHRISTMAS SKEPTICS
Sam is the believer. Always has been. Since they were kids, Sam has believed in something more, has been more hopeful of good things. Dean is the doubter. It's his job. He picks everything apart into little pieces so that he can see it clearly and understand it and then he puts it back together again. Living on top of each other and being such different people it makes things harder, but it also helps.
Sam and Dean keep each other in perspective. (We'll ignore the fact that Dean is almost always right, which makes Sam personality seem gullible and vulnerable, but that's what Dean is for, right?) Sam keeps Dean from falling into a dark cess pit of just believing there is no good left in the world. And Dean tries to keep Sam from believing in things like unicorns, Prince Charming, the Easter bunny, and the loving, caring God that the average American Christian believes in.
Life was hard, like always, and like always Sam and Dean did their best to keep each other emotionally and physically balanced. (Which was obviously a lot harder of a job for Sam.) So as they rocked close on the edge of yet ANOTHER apocalypse, they gave each other room and Dean tried not to step too hard on Sam's somewhat adorable and dangerous belief (more like hope) that God was speaking to him.
Christmas was here after all. And Sam deserved to have what he wanted. And if what he wanted was for God to speak to him then Dean would let him believe it...for a little while. And Dean liked to think Sam was right, that his brave, too good for this world, little brother was finally getting some recognition from the big bosses. So Christmas came with Sam excited and the air abuzz with anticipation and worry. But not one of them had actually given much thought to Christmas or gifts.
Well, that's not entirely true. Dean had given Christmas a lot of thought. He wanted Christmas. Dean had always wanted Christmas. And he wasn't talking about the painful ordeal they'd had before he went to hell. He was talking about a real tree, home cooked food, gifts he'd actually been able to put thought into.
Christmas was a holiday, the best one in Dean's opinion. It was all about family, and if there was anything Dean understood it was that. Family. Being together and being happy, giving gifts. He loved it, even though he had never had a real one.
But there was Sam.
If Christmas had had bad memories before that year, before Dean went hell, now it must be rank with them. Dean had been really surprised by Sam's reaction that year. But now he was aware of the hard feelings the youngest Winchester had for the holiday, and Dean really didn't want to bring up old ghosts and pain for his little brother.
So Dean decided he would have Christmas to the best of his abilities by himself. Every Christmas he would go out and just watch the bustle of all the shoppers and sellers, and if he was lucky, in the town square or shopping center there would be free hot chocolate and carolers. So that's what he did. In his free time he walked around enjoying the festive spirit all around him, and window shopped for all the gifts he'd buy Sam. He had gotten himself a decent cold stomping around the snow slushy streets.
There was a Christmas tree lot he would always drive past on the way back to the bunker, and he would roll down his window and take big breaths of the evergreen scented air. Sometimes he stopped and walked through the trees, hands stuffed into the warm depths of his pockets. He decided red and gold would totally be the colors of his tree, if he had one in the bunker. And if they had Christmas dinner he would do a rosemary and garlic leg of lamb instead of ham.
He would do stuffing and beautiful yeast rolls, and enough veggies to make Sam's smile shine, and for once they would have a decent bottle of red wine, instead of cheap beer. And then they would have a hundred different kinds of pie, and a Starbucks brew of coffee around the Christmas tree while opening gifts.
That was Dean's ideal Christmas. It was what he hoped for one day...but this was Dean. He was used to waiting for good things. He would work his way up to it, slowly but surely. Sam would learn to love the holidays just like Dean did if Dean made it good enough for him.
So Dean spent the days upcoming to Christmas quite by himself, strolling down streets and shopping outlets and malls, happy and content. Other than the fact that he was coughing his lungs out and that Sam was shut up in the bunker waiting for another vision. Really THAT was getting on his nerves.
Since there was no one to exchange presents with he decided he buy himself and Baby a new set of tires...
So on Christmas Eve Dean went to a local garage that also had a really nice show room to buy his tires. Being the perfectionist he was he made a thorough inspection of all tires before he mad his pick of the absolute BEST for Baby and for himself. He went to pay for his tires, but as he was checking out he saw a display of red bows for attaching to the grill of your car to join in of the festive spirit.
Dean had seen these before, on minivans, badass cars (like the impala), four door trucks and Mac trucks. It was funny, he had never thought of it as douchey. Without a second thought, Dean picked up a red Christmassy bow and bought it along side his tires.
He installed the tires himself, and then wired the bow into Baby's shiny grill. God, did she look good or what?
He drove home past the Christmas tree lot, stopped and walked there for a little bit. He'd started to do this. Walk with no reason, no destination. It relaxed Dean to no end. There were no eyes watching him, no one to impress, not one to keep his guard up with. He became aware of how long he'd been walking when his chest began to burn and his cough became more frequent.
Great. If Sam found out he was sick he'd want all kind of answers, demand where he'd been, make him take medicine and stay in bed over Christmas, and Dean did not want to do that. So he wrapped his coat tighter around himself and stomped through the snow to the car. He drove home, parked the impala in the garage smiled at his bow, and thought nothing more of it.
That was when all the trouble started...
Dean strolls unconcerned into the library, and hangs his keys on the tip on the blade of a scimitar. Sam appears totally enthralled in what ever he's looking at on his laptop, so Dean sits down across from him and stretches out in one chair, propping his feet up on another and says nothing.
"Hey Dean," Sam says, without looking up.
"Heya there, Sam." Dean responds, hoping Sam won't hear how stopped up his nose is.
He picks up a book from the table and flips through it disinterestedly...visions. He is SO sick of this topic. He throws the book back on the table as far away from himself as he can. It slides all the way to the end of the table, and Dean smiles satisfied as it teeters on the edge, apparently balances, and then plummets to the floor with a satisfying thump.
Sam finally looks up from the laptop, and gives his brother an appraising look.
Sam is Dean's brother...we all know that. Sam KNOWS his brother. Knows everything about him...just about. Knows what makes him tick, knows what makes him shut down. Knows when something is up, and his radar goes especially crazy when it picks up lies because with the Winchesters lies are kind of on the label, you know?
It wasn't that Sam had detected a lie or anything bad...it was just a vibe that all was not well. So he's decided to keep an eye on his older brother. Because even though Dean is the one that general takes care of Sam, sometimes Dean needs a hand to keep him from riding hard DOWNWARDS.
Not that Dean intentionally does harm to himself, it's just when the question of DEAN comes to Dean he doesn't put much time, thought, or effort into the matter. So it's Sam's job to look after the most important person or thing in his life.
Dean had been out a lot...like more than ever in Dean's long and varied career of going out. Everyday they weren't busy, Dean disappeared for a couple of hours and came back happy and quiet. Which, woah...that was enough to get Sam's hackles up AND the rest of the world's. Sam had his suspicions...he had waited for Dean to leave and then he'd done a thorough once over of his brother's bedroom AND the kitchen just for good measure.
He didn't really know what he was looking for, and it wasn't that he distrusted Dean, it was just that uneasy feeling in his gut that all was not well. So when he came up fruitless from his search, not even as much as a new phone number from some girl. Maybe he was just being paranoid, maybe he was just anxious as to Dean not hanging out so much with him.
(Sam would never admit it, but one of the things that still hurt the most was Dean and Crowley's bromancing days. And when they were together there was this air about the two of them, like they knew something Sam didn't. And there were times when they were supposed to be enemies and they kind of had to overplay it to keep their macho appearance up.
Sam knew Dean would have relationships other than him, he put up with Cas just fine. But there was something about the mutual understanding between his noble, self-sacrificing brother and a DEMON that drove Sam mad to no end.)
So Sam was silent on the matter for fear of baring his own insecurities. He kept an eye on Dean at all times, tried to lay his finger on what was going on, but just couldn't. Like he said, Dean seemed happy, he seemed more stable than Sam had seen him in years. He just honestly? Really really wanted to get on what could affect his big brother so positively.
He played with the idea of a woman, like a serious woman, a second and third date kind of woman...but this was Dean. Dean would probably be stressed out and insecure in a regular relationship, that was not it.
So Sam stayed home, researched and broke his head over the mystery that was Dean Winchester for hours.
Then Dean came home. He sent the book flying to the floor, smiled in satisfaction, and brooded across from Sam, fingering files on visions and messengers of God vengefully. He seemed a second away from losing it on Sam's research.
Was that what this was all about? Sam wondered.
Dean had tried to be supportive, had given him time to prove his point. Had given him space, A LOT OF SPACE, Sam thought, grimly. Maybe Dean had just finally had enough of the visions from God thing. Which Sam had about had enough of it too, he couldn't find anything.
If this was about the whole visions and God thing then they could probably both use a break.
Sam shut his laptop and ran both hands over his face and through his hair, the he rested his chin in one hand and propped his elbow on the table.
"You been out a lot," he says casually.
"Yeah," Dean says slowly, not looking up and still thoughtfully fingering files with the protective symbol stamped on them.
"What you been doing?" He asks, again casually. Stacking up books and taking the files from Dean and stacking them beside the books.
Dean shrugs and stands. He takes two books, checks the spine for reference and goes to put them away.
"Just driving mostly," he gives Sam a tight smile over his shoulder, "just needed to get out."
Sam frowns and walks towards him.
"You know that anytime you need to just, I don't know...if you wanna just take off and look for hunts on the road, I'm with you." Sam shrugs and ducks his head as Dean turns to look at him.
"I know, Sammy," he responds. This time giving Sam a real smile, with fondness making his eyes sparkle in the light.
Sam clears his throat and smiles too, he gives a nervous knock to the bookshelf beside him.
"Okay, so you wanna let's go?" He follows Dean back to the table, where his brother is swiftly clearing up his mess.
"Nah," Dean shakes his head, and walks past Sam to slip files back into their dusty pockets in the file cabinets. "I'm good, just sometimes these walls feel like they're closing in, you know?"
He walks back to the table, sweeps away any dust or dirt particles with his palm and straightens Sam's laptop symmetrically to the chair he had been sitting in.
Sam watches him with a tightening heart. His brother is so perfect at this...naturally domestic. He seems discontent about something, but as he straightens up the library, including lining the whiskey and bourbon bottles up perfectly straight (Sam swears he never knew his brother was OCD) he seems perfectly happy.
But this quietness will be the death of Sam.
Sam sighs and fingers go through his hair again stressfully, he decides on another tactic.
"Well, I've had it up to here with all this crap," he motions to the bookshelves, "You wanna do something?" He watches as Dean brightens from where he's sweeping a pile of dirt he swept up into the dustpan.
"Okay, sure," he stands and straightens ALL the furniture. "Wanna watch a movie or something?"
"No," Sam shakes his head adamantly, "Let's go out."
Dean gives a genuine laugh, "I thought you'd never get tired of this stuff."
"Yeah, well even Sam Winchester can have enough of God's obscurity."
Dean smiles and walks over and slaps him on the back, "Nice to know you're human, man."
"Shut up," Sam laughs. "So where you wanna go?"
"Dinner?" Dean asks.
"Sure."
"Alright, let's go." Dean says, and slides the impala's keys off the tip of the scimitar blade.
Sam follows his brother to the garage, sliding on his coat. Dean has backed the car into the garage so he walks around the back and climbs into his customary seat and shuts the door. Dean sniffs and wipes his nose on the back of his hand while Sam's not looking. Would not want to activate mama bear now would he?
Dean climbs in and they drive towards town with rock music at a moderate volume for once. As they near the city Dean can feel the excitement and rolls down his window to let the cold air and festive noises in. Churchgoers are coming back from Christmas Eve services, partiers are getting ready to start, last minute shoppers are scurrying around with tense expressions on their faces. Christmas music floats from opening and closing shop doors. The lights are blinking on as the sun disappears, children are misguidedly praying to Santa, parents are laughing at their cuteness. Dean finds rest in the bustle of going unnoticed for once.
"Aww man!" Sam exclaims from beside him.
"What?" Dean asks, broken from his comfortable, happy haze.
"I forgot it was the twenty-fourth, whew...boy is it busy...we should have stayed home." Sam is looking out his window with not QUITE a belligerent look on his face.
Dean wipes the cheerful look off his face in a blink of an eye, "You wanna go back?" He asks, admirably keeping the disappointment from his voice.
Sam shakes his head, "Nah, might as well grab something to eat while we're out."
Dean nods and pulls into a nice looking joint. Sam raises his eyebrows at his brother.
"What? This place is good, great burger." He winks and Sam just shakes his head and laughs. That's more like HIS Dean.
Sam hops out and stands waiting for his brother who is taking longer than usual and coughing a little. Sam knocks on the hood of the impala and Dean gives him a dirty look.
"You good?" Sam asks.
"I'm fine," Dean says, "Let's go." He gets out and leads the way into the restaurant.
The bell chimes as Sam steps into the building behind Dean. It's nice, clean...and quiet, best of all. Christmas music plays in the background, a nice country style decorated Christmas tree stands in the corner.
"Hey Dean!" A brunette waitress calls to his brother and Sam jumps in surprise. "Merry Christmas!" She calls cheerily, coming towards them.
"Hey Katie," Dean smiles and waves as he leads the way to the back of the shop to sit at the table beside the Christmas tree.
"How's that cold?" She asks, as she places napkins and silverware on their table.
Dean gives her a real smile, "I'm good, Katie, thanks." He ignores Sam's sharp look.
"Alrighty," she smiles, "What'll it be?"
Dean leans back in his seat, "I'll have the regular, my kid sister here will need a menu though."
Sam sends Dean a dirty look but smiles as Katie laughs kindly. She hands Sam a slip of paper from her back pocket.
"The special is salad and broccoli cheese soup," she offers as Sam peruses the menu.
"Yeah, let me have that." Sam assents and hands the menu back.
"Drinks?" She asks, slipping the folded paper back into her pocket.
"I'll have a water," Sam says.
"Coffee," Dean smiles up at her, she gives him a friendly smile too and then walks off to get their order.
Maybe Sam was right, maybe this was all about a girl, about Katie...they seemed pretty friendly.
"Sooo," Sam lets out with a sigh and a quirked eyebrow, "Katie a friend?"
"Just a friend," Dean says pointedly, and then sighs, a hand going over his face.
Sam frowns, "Are you sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine, Sam, just a headache. Probably go away after I eat and get some caffeine in me." He gives Sam a foolhardy grin and then gives the Christmas tree Sam's got his back to a once over.
Katie brings their food and they eat in relative silence. Sam felt uneasy the whole time, something was really off. Whether it was Dean's ill health, or whatever else was bothering him, Dean was really down. And Sam hadn't noticed it before, but Dean looked bad. Pale, a little drawn, definitely sick. He just looked like he had been driven too hard.
Dean set aside half his burger, which was a huge warning sign. He took the warm coffee mug in both his hands as if to warm them. He closed his eyes in bliss as he drank the hot liquid.
"God, that's so good." He said, and gave Sam a tired smile.
"You want something else before we leave?" He asks, as he finishes off the coffee and motions to Katie for the check.
Sam shakes his head, thinking of a Starbucks. "You sure you don't wanna bring the rest of that burger for later?"
Dean shakes his head and tips Katie.
"Merry Christmas, sweetheart," she says, and Dean gives her a wink that makes her laugh.
"See ya later, Katie." He waves as they walk out the door. But he runs into Sam's back where his GIANT little brother has stopped dead in his tracks.
"Sam, what the..."
"Dude," Sam blurts, "there is a bow on your car." And Sam is thinking in panic that if the jokester who did this is still around Dean will rip his head off.
But Dean just gives him a smile, "I know, man, don't she look good?"
Sam's eyes widen in shock, "Wait, you put a bow on your car?"
Dean nods and looks a little less enthusiastic. "Yeah, she looks good doesn't she?"
Sam gives the car another look down. She's shiny and sleek, and now that he thinks about it those look like new tires. And the bow actually does look nice, but why...?
Oh shit.
This was what it was all about, wasn't it? Christians?
It's like a punch in the gut that Dean would think of Christmas and not talk to him. That he would go out and buy himself new tires and a red bow to stick on his baby and not say a thing to Sam. And Sam is hurt, but he knows this is probably all his fault. Dean has been leaving him alone with his lore and research and belief that God was talking to him.
Dean would think of him first. Would remember his reaction all those years ago, and would give Sam what he could for Christmas without forcing the uncomfortable holiday on Sam. He would leave him alone with his books and laptop and let him believe in God. And Dean would go out and buy himself and the impala a Christmas present, he would sit in a little restaurant by himself and watch the December madness pass by him and be jealous. Because that's what Sam has no doubt Dean did. And that's why Katie had known him so well.
"This is all about Christmas? Seriously?" He asks, squaring his shoulders, ready to deal with this now.
Dean looks affronted, "What do you mean "this is all about Christmas"?" He asks stiffly.
"I don't know," Sam gestures, "The constant going out and happy...thing you got going on?"
Dean gives Sam a WTF? face.
Sam laughs, "Seriously Dean. What is it with you and Christmas?" He asks, and looks over at his brother telling himself he wasn't just lashing out at Dean because he felt hurt. "We never had Christmas, or at least a proper one...ever, do you always have to rub salt in the wound?"
Dean's face falls, but Sam can see his jaw clench from across the hood of the car. Dean says nothing, just gets into the impala and shuts the door. Sam heaves a sigh and clenches his own teeth in hopes of calming himself. He opens his door and climbs in beside his brother.
"Dean, liste..." He starts, but is cut off by Dean.
"No. You. Listen. To. Me. Sam." And Sam can't remember the last time Dean had spoken to him this way. The dad way, the way that struck fear into Sam's heart.
Dean takes a calming breath and his hands fist around Baby's steering wheel.
"Look, I didn't force any of this on you, okay? I decide to celebrate Christmas that has nothing to do with you. If you don't want to have Christmas I respect that, but I expect you to do the same for me, Sam." Dean cranks the car, "And if you don't like the bow then you can freaking walk."
Sam says nothing, just swallows.
"Okay," Dean breathes, wiping a hand over his forehead. He's really starting to feel not so hot. "You wanted Starbucks, right?" He read his little brother's mind yet again.
Sam nodded.
"Alright." Dean pulls out of the parking lot and onto the road, feeling sick and miserable. He'd taken all precautions that not even Sam would ruin his Christmas and still...damn Winchester luck.
Sam feels terrible over on his side of the impala's front bench. He has to be world's worst brother. Dean had thought of him, had taken his best interest to heart, had known Sam would be uncomfortable, had left him quiet and content with his books while Dean went out and enjoyed the Christmas spirit in probably the creepiest weirdest way.
He knew Dean didn't believe it was God talking to him. But he had hushed his skepticism just for Sam and had kept his longing for Christmas shut inside his heart.
Then when Sam had gotten the slightest hint that Dean celebrated Christmas without him he had blown up and fussed Dean out.
Sam hated it when Dean talked to him sternly, especially THAT way. Because it meant he had pushed his brother to a certain extreme where Dean felt like he had to protect himself from Sam. And the fact that Dean was clearly sick, just meant he was feeling even more vulnerable. He glances over to his brother where he's stonily staring out the windshield and pulling into Starbucks and parking just for Sam.
He throws the impala into park and sighs, "There ya go." He says, glancing at Sam. "Hurry back," he adds and Sam thinks he hears a little sarcasm.
He frowns, "You want anything?"
"Yeah," Dean reaches into his pocket and hands him a few dollars, "just a plain black for me."
"I got it," Sam says, trying to had the money back.
Dean shoots him a sour look that would have puckered a lemon. It clearly says, I'm pissed at you, you can't buy my coffee.
Sam purses his lips and climbs out shutting the door behind him. The only thing to do is apologize, he decides as he stands in line. But apologies don't always fix things with Dean, the damage may be permanently done. He grimaces a little as he remembers Dean's reaction, the hurt look on his face. He sighs, god, why is he so dumb?
He gets the coffee, stuffing Dean's money in his jeans pocket to be returned sneakily later on. While Dean might not accept the humble action of sorrow over sin, it most certainly will make Sam feel better. Walking back out to the car he sees Dean with his head against the door jam, eyes shut. He frowns when he notices the wrinkles in between his brother's eyes that only show if Dean's in pain.
He opens his door as quietly as he can manage, and shuts it with equal care.
"Here ya go," he says, and Dean takes the coffee.
"I'll just go ahead and have my money back now," he says.
Sam smiles and hands the bills back to his brother. "I'm sorry Dean." He says quietly, looking down at his coffee, noticing the holiday designs on his cup.
Dean sips before responding. "It's alright Sam," he says, not helping to assuage Sam's guilt any. "I shouldn't have brought you out on Christmas Eve."
"No!" Sam objects. "I shouldn't be like some teenage girl you have to walk on eggshells around, I should have better control of myself."
Dean is silent after this. Obviously not wanting to start another fight by agreeing, but clearly not disagreeing.
"I'm sorry, I was just...surprised." Sam offers as a lame excuse. "I didn't think you thought about Christmas."
"Well, now you know," Dean grunted back at him.
Sam is at a loss of what else to say. Dean doesn't seem like he even wants to make up, he's closed up. And Sam knows his brother, it was a job opening Dean up.
"I wish you would have just said something to me," he said softly, nervously fingering his coffee lid just to find something to do with his hands.
Dean is still unresponsive and shrugs his shoulders forward and crosses his arms across chest, he tries to hide the shiver, but Sam catches it.
"You know I'm not crazy about Christmas but if you REALLY wanted to, we could have at least talked about it," he insists.
Dean jerks his head away form Sam, looking out his window.
"Dean, c'mon, man. I'm trying to apologize here, at least meet me half way?" Sam asks, leaning towards his brother and shoving him with his elbow. "Why didn't you say anything, huh?"
"Because I knew this was exactly what would happen, Sam!" Dean bursts out, sounding exasperated. He looks at Sam sharply, eyes flashing in anger.
"Because I knew, all you had for Christmas was a much of bitter memories and miles of daddy issues!" Dean wraps his arms tighter around himself. "So I just decided to have Christmas by myself!"
Sam is silent.
"I didn't pull you into anything you didn't want to do, all you wanted was to research and believe God was talking to you, and I let you have that Sam, I shut up about how stupid it was and let you have that. Now the least you can do is let me have the same." Dean coughs into his hand. And for the life of him Sam can't think of anything else to say so...
"You can't have Christmas by yourself." He states.
Dean looks at him with plain shock in his eyes, "Oh no, thanks Sherlock, I was doing just fine until you came along!"
"Dean c'mon..." Sam starts but Dean cuts him off.
"No, don't tell me to c'mon Sam, you c'mon. Which one are you more pissed about hm? Christmas in general or me not asking you to celebrate it with me?"
And there Dean does it. That aggravating thing he's so good at, somehow knowing exactly what's going on in Sam's mind and heart.
Sam pulls an epic bitch face and Dean knows he's hit the nail on the head. Yahtzee.
Jealous little brothers are either cute or nasty...Sam's never been predictable.
Sam screws his face up and crosses his own arms.
"You honestly expect me to WANT to have Christmas with you when you don't even believe in the holiday?" Dean asks, in clearly confused disbelief.
"You don't believe in Jesus Christ either, Dean." Sam spits. "Christmas isn't..."
"I swear if you say that Christmas isn't Jesus' birthday I will drag you out of this car and kick your ass in the parking lot." Dean turns towards his little brother ad glares at him. "It's not about, the date, or about it being right, it's about what it all represents, giving gifts, spreading the love, being together as a family."
A hand lands on Sam's arm and he turns to cuts his eyes at Dean. His big brother's voice has gone painfully sincere.
"Every other family in the entire USA is together, Sammy, they're trying to be happy, they're showing love and giving joy to each other. It doesn't have to be technically right, it all doesn't have to be perfect. It's about the effort, it's about being together with the people you love most."
Dean lets go of Sam and sits straight again, cranking the car. "That's what makes it special Sam, it's the one day in the whole year that everyone is trying as hard as I try to keep their families together, that's worth celebrating."
Sam sits in shocked silence as Dean peels out of the Starbucks parking lot, and heads out of town.
This is what Christmas meant to Dean? This is why he loved this time of year? Sam is a fool, he should have known. Should have known Dean loved Christmas for unselfish reasons just like he did everything else. He should have known that it boiled back down to Dean's dedication to family.
And then there was Sam. Sam, who couldn't venture out during the holiday season because it hurt too much. But really by Dean's standards they had good Christmases. Sam and Dean most of the time had presents, always had more food than normal, and...they were together. Sam guesses things cold have been worse, like a lot worse...like him in some foster home, or orphanage without Dean there to protect him, buy him presents and candy on the special day, to love him and make him feel treasured...
"Okay," he says, looking over at Dean.
"Okay?" Dean asks, still sounding annoyed.
"If you're right, and that's what Christmas is really about, about being together as a family...then we still have each other and that is something to celebrate."
Dean gives him an appraising look before he has too look back to the road.
"You're serious?" He asks finally.
"I'm serious." Sam turns his body towards his brother.
Dean says nothing.
"So...?" Sam asks.
"So what?" Dean asks back, breaking just a little.
"So what are we gonna do...for yknow Christmas?"
Skepticism passes over Dean's face. "You sure Sam? You don't have to just for me, like I said I was doing fine."
"No." Sam said firmly, "I want to. You're my family and I'm proud of that Dean, I want to celebrate it."
Sam smiles at the obvious affected look that passes over Dean's face.
"Alright." Dean says.
Sam sighs in relief and smiles big at his brother. "Alright, so, get a tree for the bunker?"
Dean sighs a little shakily before letting out a hacking cough, "A tree for the bunker." He confirms.
"You know a place?" Sam asks.
"Yeah," Dean nods.
He drives them to his Christmas tree lot and parks in his usual spot. He smiles (away from Sam's direction) he's thrilled that he's actually getting a tree! He follows Sam out of the car and into the midst of the trees, coughing painfully into his hand. Sam turns to look at him.
"You are sick aren't you?" He asks, stopping for Dean to catch up to him.
"It's just a cold," Dean responds distractedly, searching for the perfect tree.
"Sounds like it's settling into your chest," Sam says, following after hm, hands snuggled into his pockets. "Gah, it's cold."
"It is kinda nippy, ain't it?" Dean answers, blowing on his fingers as they come up to cover a cough.
"What about this one?" He asks Sam, stopping beside a nearly flawless tree, a few inches taller than Sam.
Sam looks it up and down, "Yeah, that one looks good," he answers and then grins mischievously. He grabs the top most branch and shakes the entire tree off on Dean.
Dean yelps and jumps back, snow going down the neck of his shirt, in his face and hair, all over his clothes. Sam catches the tree where Dean dropped it, and let's out a ringing laugh.
"You little shit..." Dean grounds out, and the next thing Sam knows his arms are full of his 190lb, six foot tall brother and they're both moving fast towards the ground. Sam hits the snow with a grunt and quickly gets with the program. Realizing this was full on snow fight, entirely ignoring the snowball part.
Dean grabs a handful of Sam's thick hair and uses the leverage to rub Sam's face into the snow, Sam growls and quickly flips them, stuffing a handful of freezing snow up Dean's shirt. They keep on their wrestling match, rolling around in the snow until they're both thoroughly warm and clothes soaked through. Dean finally pins Sam down, hands pinned to the ground with his knees and sitting heavily on his stomach.
He presses his hands to Sam's shoulders and laughs, "Can still kick your ass little brother." He pants. His victory is interrupted by a vicious bout of coughing, Sam takes, perhaps dirty advantage of Dean's predicament, and quickly flips them again. Dean nearly chokes on his tongue.
"Let me up," he gasps and Sam does. Sam laughs at him and Dean chuckles a few times while working hard for his breaths.
"You good, man?" Sam asks, after a few minutes.
Dean nods, still coughing a little into his hand. And frankly, Sam's a little worried. Dean's eyes are bright, and red glowing spots appear on his cheeks.
"I'll go pay, okay?" Sam says.
"Alright," Dean responds, "I think I got a tarp into the back and some rope."
"What? You're not gonna let the tree ride inside with us?"
Sam laughs as Dean gives him a very deliberate view of just his middle finger.
"Hurry up," Dean says, drawing his coat further around him.
"Will do," Sam asserts.
When Sam comes back Dean's got the tree and the tarp and rope, so he gives him a hand getting it on the impala's roof and tied on. He's got to admit Baby looks pretty in the festive spirit, and bad with that bow and the Christmas tree on her...Dean snaps a photo.
"God, you're so weird about that car." Sam groans as he climbs into the impala. Dean joins him.
"Hey, Baby's the only long lasting relationship I've ever had, we take care of each other. Don't we, Baby?" He asks, patting her dash lovingly.
"Where to next?" Sam asks, "Don't we still need a few things?"
Dean nods, "Lights and ornaments, I'm just going to Walmart. There's one not to far from here."
Sam laughs at Dean as they peruse Walmart's selection of Christmas tree ornaments.
"I want red and gold ornaments and white lights," he says firmly, and begins to pick out ornaments. He motions to Sam to pick up the lights.
"How many yards?" Sam asks, a little at a loss.
"Get sixty feet," Dean says, glancing over his shoulder, while picking up a Christmas tree stand too.
"Pfft, that's gonna be way too many, Dean." Sam laughs.
"Whatever Martha Stewart," Dean grunts, "Just get the damn lights."
So Sam does, and they're back in the car gliding over the asphalt, past snow covered fields towards the bunker in record timing.
Dean is shivering in earnest now, and Sam is definitely starting to get worried about this cold as he begins to be able to hear Dean's breath wheeze from in between his lips.
"Dean, you sound really bad, are you sure you're okay?" He asks, as they're pulling into the bunker's garage.
Dean would not let leukemia mess his Christmas up now. "I'm fine Sam," he reassures, smiling. "It always gets a little worse at night."
"Always?" Sam asks, as they stand across from each other untying the ropes around the tree. He raises his eyebrows at Dean as if to say, busted, how sick are you?
"The standard cold lasts two weeks, Sam, I'm perfectly fine." Dean says smirking, and holding back a cough.
"And how long have you been sick?" Sam asks, knowing his brother all too well.
Dean mumbles something... "What was that?" Sam asks, annoyingly tilting his ear towards his brother.
"Three weeks! Okay? God." Dean gently slides the tarp and tree off of the impala and to the ground.
"Three weeks?" Sam asks, in disbelief, how could he have not noticed Dean being sick for three weeks?
"And don't freak out," Dean says dryly, "The average American is sick three weeks during the winter. I'm just getting all m my sick time in at once." He grunts as he tries to lift the tree, "Wanna give me a hand?"
Sam picks up the other end of the tree and glares at his brother, "Bull," he says, "There's no way that's accurately statistical."
"Whatever," Dean says, "I'm fine, and Christmas is tomorrow and I'm not being sick then so..." He consults his watch, "...in three and a half hours I'll be 100%." He smiles brightly at Sam as if the problem has been solved.
Sam shakes his head and decides that as soon as the tree is set up Dean is getting medicine and ginger tea. Sam grimaces, not even wanting to think of that battle. (He distinctly remembers Dean telling him that hot chocolate was invented especially for Christmas Eve night.)
Dean makes another trip back to the garage for the decorations and lights, and to lock up the garage door and the impala. Sam waits because honestly he doesn't have a clue what to do. Dean returns and Sam helps him put the tree into the stand and screw it into place. They clear one of the alcoves in the library out and put it there between the two half height bookshelves.
Dean strings the lights on with Sam handing him the spool around the back. And Sam can't help but be happy that they've made this decision together. He can't remember the last time he saw Dean so happy, and content. So unguarded, and smiling. He's giving Sam that 500 watt smile the whole time, that smile Sam had lived for once all those years ago.
"C'mon Sam," he says, opening the plastic container of ornaments, "You've gotta help."
"Okay, tell me where you want them," Sam returns, and smiles as Dean is all business, and really it seems his brother is a natural. They're tree is coming together perfectly. The sixty feet of lights fit beautifully, illuminating the whole tree as well as the room. The lights were glittering off the red and gold sparkle ornaments.
"This looks awesome," he voices his amazement.
"Told you the lights would fit," Dean says, although he's smiling. He coughs through his laugh painfully as Sam nudges him in the ribs where they're standing admiring they're handiwork.
"Hey, isn't there supposed to be one of those...thingys around the bottom?" He questions, motioning helplessly with his hands.
"Oh yeah," Dean looks puzzled and shrugs at Sam, "Use a blanket?"
Sam nods and disappears, only to return with a red blanket that honestly, looks like Cas had been drooling on it while on his Netflix binge.
He gets on his hands and knees and pools it around and over the Christmas tree stand. He stands back with Dean to survey.
"Yeah, that looks better," Dean says and they both smile at each other ridiculously, like they had just accomplished something huge.
"Oh, I almost forgot," Dean says, his face suddenly screwing up in concentration. He pulls a packet of car air fresheners out of his back pocket and clears his throat.
Sam suddenly finds a lump in his throat and tears in his eyes as he remembers all those years ago when he'd decorated a makeshift tree with air fresheners while preparing his heart to say goodbye to his brother forever.
"Sam," Dean starts, "I'm by no means saying your pain doesn't count for anything at Christmas, and I'm honestly sorry for putting you through that." He looks up at Sam, with glistening eyes, "I know very well there are wounds that never heal, hurts and aches that will never go away. But I think we can create new memories for Christmas, give it new meaning. So one day when we look back we have a reason to smile."
Sam swallows, "Thanks, Dean." He smiles and blinks away the tears.
Dean hands him the packet of air fresheners.
"I love ya, Sammy," he says gently, a hand coming to cup the side of his neck for a brief second.
Sam nods and looks up at him smiling tremulously, "Love you too, Dean."
Dean clears his throat and begins to clean up their mess of packaging, and sweeping up Christmas tree nettles.
"Alright, now that we've used up all the chick flick moment passes for the next five years, you want some hot chocolate?"
Sam laughs. "Dean, you need some tea for that cough and your throat, let me make it. I'll have some too."
He begins to walk towards the kitchen.
"Oh no," Dean says, "Not having TEA on Christmas Eve, raised you better than that, Sammy." He smiles, "You go get ready for bed and I'll make us some hot cocoa."
He turns all the lights off in the library except for the Christmas tree lights...he pauses for a moment to enjoy the effect, but Sam won't rest his case.
"Dean, you need medicine and some tea, I can hear you breathing from over here." Sam says, walking back to honest to goodness win this fight.
Dean crosses his arms, "You can forget it right now, Sam."
Sam sighs and squares his shoulders, "You can't just say forget it Dean, that's not even fair, that's like taking advantage of the whole big brother thing." He whines.
Dean looks like, duh? "Uh, that's exactly what I'm doing?!" He says.
And then Sam does it. He knows it's playing a little dirty, but the issue is Dean's health after all. He's looking ever whiter, and sweat is appearing on his forehead. Sam lets his eyes get wide, lets them get that pleading, my world is tipping on its edge look, lets his lips slip downward just a touch. Score 1 for little brother Sammy Winchester; puppy dog eyes.
"Ugh, Sam," Dean groans, "That." He points to Sam's face, "Is not fair." Sam doesn't relent. "Alright," Dean concedes, "First one changed and in the kitchen wins?"
"Deal," Sam says and is off like a light, Dean close on his heels.
Sam gets ready for bed in record timing and slides down the halls and around corners in his socked feet. He slides precariously close to the door frame and into the kitchen. He breathes heavy and laughs a little to himself when he sees no Dean anywhere...he won.
Sam chuckles a little evilly to himself as he puts a pot of water on to boil and gets his tea bags out and prepares to cups, cutting a strip of ginger for each. The water bowls and Sam steeps the tea and is ready and still no Dean.
Dean could be slow especially if he was on his own time. But to be this late and when it was a question of tea or hot chocolate? Where was he?
"Dean?" He called out, "You coming?"
He was answered with nothing but silence. This was getting stranger by the second, so he padded from the kitchen and made his way towards their rooms. He knocked at Dean's door, and opened it after getting no response. The room was empty. The pillow and blankets missing off Dean's bed, his boots and socks discarded on the floor as well as his jeans. That kind of messiness was uncharacteristic of Dean. Sam frowned.
He walked past his room just to make sure Dean wasn't looking for him, but found nothing again. He quickly made his way to the library.
"Dean?" He called, "You here?" He made his way into the library and quickly found his missing sibling.
Dean stood in front on the Christmas tree barefoot and in sweatpants holding his shirt in his hand, pillow and blankets on the floor at his feet. From here Sam could see the Christmas tree lights reflecting off the sweat layering his brother's exposed skin. He can also hear the wheezing coming from Dean's tired lungs.
Sam sighed, Dean was sicker than he thought.
"Dean," he said, "Answer me why don't you? You scared me." He walks over and stands beside his brother.
Dean turns fever bright eyes on Sam who catches the bone deep shivers rocking through him.
"Heya, Sammy," he says hoarsely, "Just enjoying the tree."
"We were gonna have tea, remember?" Sam asks.
Dean shakes his head, "No, jus' the tree," he says.
Sam sighs, oh no, sick Dean was bad enough. But fever Dean? Please kill them now.
Sam gently takes Dean's shirt from his shaking hand. "Here, let's put this on, okay?"
"Okay," Dean assents, "I was hot," he says with chattering teeth.
"I know," Sam says, helping Dean slip into the long sleeved t-shirt. "I think you got a fever." And seriously, Sam ain't kidding. Dean is on fire, like scary hot, heat reaching out to Sam through the shirt he just put on his brother.
"Dean, think maybe we should get you to bed," he says gently, turning Dean away from the tree with hands on his shoulders.
"No!" Dean argues, his hands fisting in Sam's t-shirt, "S'mmy, plz, gotta enjoy the tree." He lifts those big, confused, pleading, green eyes up to Sam's face and Sam finds himself fast relenting.
"Dean, you're sick." He explains, even as he feels more shivers rock through Dean's body.
"S'lright, S'm," Dean slurs, "You'll take care of me, I'll be safe by the tree."
Sam smiles, "I know but..."
"The tree's in the bunker, S'm." Dean argues, hand tugging Sam closer using his shirt, "It'll be safe, s'fe for you too."
"Dean," Sam sighs... "Alright." He concedes, letting go of Dean and turning to go get some supplies.
"Where ya' goin?" Dean asks panicking, almost immediately latching back onto Sam's shirt.
"Got to go get some stuff," he says gently, untangling Dean's hands from his shirt, "I'll be right back."
Dean nods and Sam hurries back to his room where he grabs three more blankets, two more pillows and a pair of socks. He drops them by the tree and then heads back to the bathroom where he grabs aspirin, a thermometer and cough and cold medicine, and a box of tissues. He gives up on getting a fevered Dean to down ginger tea and grabs a couple of bottles of water.
He returns to the library to find Dean leaning against the pillar next to the tree staring dreamily at the lights.
"Hey Dean," he says softly. "I'm back." He quickly begins to make a pallet on the floor with the blankets in front of the tree big enough for the both of them. He places the pillows at one end and sits down on the outside edge away from the tree next to his stash of supplies. He pats the blankets beside him.
"C'mon, sit." He says and Dean does, nearly toppling over. Sam grabs his bicep and leads him down the rest of the way. He hands Dean the thermometer who stares at it blankly.
"Put it in you mouth," he says, and Dean complies.
It beeps quickly and Sam jerks it from Dean's slow moving hands. 102.8, not the worst Dean's had, but definitely not good.
Sam counts out three aspirins into his hand and hands them to Dean and screws open a bottle of water. Dean tosses the pills back and Sam hands him the water, he drinks thirstily, and Sam takes it away from him in a minute.
He pours out some cough syrup for his brother and Dean eyes it suspiciously, even as he nearly hacks up a lung. "Wha's 'at?" He asks, becoming even less coherent.
"It's for your cough, it'll make you feel better." Sam says and hands it over. Dean drinks it and grimaces, handing the measuring cup back to Sam.
"Tastes nasty," he says.
Sam laughs, "Most things that are good for you taste bad."
"Tha's true..." Dean provides thoughtfully.
"Okay, one last pill," says Sam handing it over. "It's for your congestion." He says as Dean gives him a questioning look.
Dean just looks more confused.
"It'll help your breathing," he simplifies.
Dean nods tiredly and swallows the pill with a little more water.
"I'm I done now, S'm?" he asks, truly sounding miserable.
"Yeah, you're done. You can lay down now." Sam answers. "Here put on these socks." He hands them to Dean who some how or another gets the socks on his feet.
"No hot chocolate?" Dean asks, as he goes down on one elbow and slowly lowers his head to the pillow.
"No hot chocolate." Sam confirms, laying down beside him.
"In the morning?" Dean asks.
"In the morning," Sam allows.
Dean lays on his back gazing up at the light of his very own Christmas tree, he's perfectly happy...well except for this really annoying pain when he breathes...but that's to be expected with his cold. He can't really remember how they ended up here, but Sam is with him and sounds happy and is taking care of everything, so he lays back and enjoys his Christmas. Sam will remember for him, he's such a stickler for details.
Sam finds himself much more enthralled with his brother than the tree itself. The lights reflect in Dean's fever bright eyes, he watches the emotions chase each other across his face. Happiness, peace, confusion, sadness...tears sneaking silently down to Dean's pillow.
"Hey Dean, c'mon man, what's up?" Sam coos as softly as he can. Dean jumps like he forgot Sam was there, his eye snap to Sam's face, heartbreak reflecting there, Sam swallows thickly.
Dean slides a hand up Sam's chest until he grabs a fistful of his shirt as his breath quickens and gets hoarser sounding.
"Mom loved Christmas tree lights," he whispers, coughing into his pillow, and then looking at Sam again when it subsides. "Dad always hated it after though." He says mournfully. He turns his face back towards the tree and tears still chase each other down his cheeks.
"Hey Dean." Sam says, sliding up on his elbow and leaning his chin on Dean's shoulder. "She'd want you to be happy, Dean." He whispers.
Dean turns a little towards Sam, "Ya don't hate it do ya, S'm?" He asks, wiping tears away with the back of his hand.
"No," Sam says firmly, "No, I don't hate Christmas...I just needed someone to help me understand it."
"Tha's good," Dean smiles through his tears, "Tha's good." He repeats.
Sam smiles and lays back down leaving his hand resting on Dean's arm rubbing comfortingly. The silence stretches on.
"S'mmy?"
"Yeah," Sam answers. He listens as Dean's breath hitches.
"Don' feel v'good," he says.
"I know," Sam comforts, and pulls the blankets farther up them for more warmth as Dean shivers a little less violently.
"Chest h'rts," he says in a mere whisper.
"I know, you'll feel better in the morning, Dean. Just go to sleep, buddy." He smoothed his hand up and down Dean's arm.
Dean tosses his head restlessly from side to side on his pillow, objecting to Sam's suggestion.
"Dean..." He says warningly.
"Not yet," Dean mumbles, "Not yet."
"Why?" Sam asks.
"Wha' timez'it?" He asks, turning a little more towards Sam.
Sam feels around for his phone and finds it amongst the blankets. He pushes the home button to light up the screen and blinks painfully for a few seconds.
"It's...12:04." He tells Dean.
"Oh," Dean says, coughing some more.
"Merry Christmas, S'mmy." He mummers, and then turns away from his much coveted Christmas tree, and buries his face in Sam's shoulder.
He's asleep faster than Sam thought humanly possible.
Sam sighs, head still spinning from what has transpired over the last few hours. He glances up at the Christmas tree and it is beautiful, but Dean's right. What and who is sleeping beside him, breath crackling loudly in his lungs and snot running slowly towards his top lip, he is way more important to Sam than anything else. Be it in favor of Christmas or not...anything for this man laying beside him.
Sam gets comfortable and somehow he's ended up with Dean's pillow. That familiar smell of his shampoo, gun oil and aftershave is lulling Sam quickly towards sleep and dreams. He's just about to join his brother when a sudden thought occurs to him.
If Baby is worthy of a picture with the Christmas tree than so are they. He picks up his phone and manages to get them and the tree in the lens without jolting Dean awake. He snaps the photo and smiles at the result. He slips his phone up under his...or Dean's pillow and buries his nose in that soothing scent, eyes already closing...
"Merry Christmas, Dean."
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