One of Santa's Elves
"Where'd you go?" Dean croaks, resting comfortably on Sam's bed, cheeks still red from fever though looking better since he left.
"Out".
He places a hand on Dean's forehead, "You feeling better?"
"Why don't we celebrate Christmas, Sam?"
"Maybe cause last year the morphine convinced you I was one of Santa's elves sent to kill you."
Dean sits up with curious eyes and a smile that matches his own as Sam hands him a package.
"Open it."
His big brother rips it open.
"Mittens", he says excitedly, digging deeper, "and ear muffs."
Sam ruffles Dean's soft hair, "Merry Christmas, bro."
FIN (And Merry Christmas to everyone!)
