Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural,
Well, except that… nevermind…
Where tears fall: hey all! Well, I sort of just wrote this on a whim- enjoy!
"You will never be happy if you search for what happiness consists of. You will never live if you are looking for the meaning of life."
-Albert Camus-
This was not Samuel Winchester's idea of a good Christmas.
It was the exact opposite.
In fact, if it could have been opposite and negative, without having the ensuing cancel effect, it was.
Christmas was nearly over and all the "exchanging of gifts" that the brothers had done involved swapping a sausage egg and cheese biscuit for a salad.
For a Christmas activity, they spent the majority of the day hunting a tricky poltergeist who so graciously gave them each a bruised rib, Sam a sprained wrist, Dean a hurt arm, and both boys a few nice cuts that would leave interesting scars.
That had taken nearly all day.
They were currently riding around a small town in search of some usual crappy motel to get some much needed sleep. So far, their search had gone as well as their Christmas…
Dean let out a frustrated cry while slamming his fists on the steering wheel, ignoring the pain it caused to radiate up his arm.
It wasn't fair.
The hunter ran an irritated hand through his short hair.
It just wasn't fair.
Sam twisted in his seat, peering from underneath his long, shaggy hair at yet another neon flashing "no vacancy" sign. He sighed, pressing his head back against the cold glass.
They had been driving around for at least on hour and not one room was found. Even the usually vacant dilapidated rooms with no hot water and warnings not to feed the rats were taken.
"There has to be at least one hotel in this freakin' town with a room." Dean grumbled, blaring his horn at a car that swerved in front of him.
Sam shifted closer to the window, effectively placing his back to his brother.
Dean had been completely unmanageable, taking every opportunity to yell at anyone who slightly pissed him off, including Sam.
It had become so bad, that Sam was tempted to sing the second verse to "The Grinch" every time the older hunter's face started turning the unnatural shade of red.
Sam's fingers brushed softly against the delicately wrapped package in his pocket. He was going to surprise Dean in the morning, but waking up to 'Sammy, get your but out of bed, we've got a poltergeist to annihilate' killed the gift-giving mood.
"There we go!" Dean exclaimed, swerving the car to the side across two lanes of traffic. Sam braced himself against the window at the unexpected turn of the car, accompanied by a sharp screech of the tires.
For a fleeting moment of hope Sam glanced out at the side of the street at a bright vacancy sign, the sweetest sight to his tired brown eyes. But just as Sam though that fortune decided to give them a break, the "no" part of the "no vacancy" lit up, shattering the smidgeon of light that slipped into this dark day.
The younger Winchester closed his eyes, practically feeling Dean smoldering behind him.
But instead of the routine shouted curses from the older hunter, a large thump followed by a jolt resounded, that sent Sam sliding forward in his seat.
Sam was barley able to brace himself against the dashboard as the car lurched forward and to the side.
It felt like an eternity before the impala skidded to a stop on the side of the road, now one tire less.
Sam pulled himself up from his hunched over position and sucked in a deep breath, wincing as a slew of very creative curses erupted from Dean's mouth in a seemingly never-ending stream.
"You OK Sam?" Dean asked, running a shaky hand through his hair and turning concerned hazel eyes on his younger brother.
Sam, who had turned a few shades paler, only nodded, barely making eye contact with the older man.
Still, sputtering a few murmured curses, Dean threw open the sleek door of his precious impala and stomped over to the passenger side of the car.
Sam felt the frigid air creep inside the car as he watched Dean hunch over to inspect the tire, which by that time had become nothing more than a few shreds of rubber.
Sam knew they were in trouble by the way Dean starred down at the shredded tire. He inwardly sighed before charging out of the safety of the car into the cold of a winter night to join his brother.
This was turning out to be some Christmas.
Dean noticed Sam standing behind him, jacket pulled close to his body for warmth. He unconsciously scrubbed his unhurt hand over his face at their dumb luck.
They always carried a spare tire, that wasn't the problem.
The problem was that both of them were hurt and tired, and in no condition to change a tire out in the cold.
He resisted the temptation to kick what was left of the rubber.
He was tired. In more ways than one.
"Excuse me? Do you boys need some help?" a soft voice broke the night silence.
Dean was broken from his trance and sharply glanced up to see an elderly man inspecting the tire before him.
It was then that Dean noticed that his hand rested on the knife he always kept on his person.
He consciously pulled his hand away from the weapon and let it hang by his side.
The old man looked up from where he was standing first at Sam, taking notice of the way he cradled his wrist, and then turned his blue eyes on Dean.
Dean was quick to flash a smile at the weathered man.
"No thanks, I think we can handle it." He said, a small dose of sarcasm, not lost on the old man, inserted in.
He was about to prod the man further, before a soft hand grabbed his arm and pulled him back.
Dean starred into his brother's pleading eyes as Sam suppressed a shiver.
"Dean, maybe this man could help us, I mean we really need it this time." He whispered, his dark bangs hiding his eyes.
"No way Sam. No way I'm letting that guy touch my baby. I mean what if…"
The older hunter stopped mid sentence to look at Sam's huge eyes and pale features, and knew that he was caught.
"Oh, crap, fine." He whispered back, and was rewarded with a genuine smile from Sam.
"But if this guy is actually some sort of crazy maniac out to eat out hearts, I am blaming you." Dean said before turning back to the man who instantly lit up in a beard-covered smile.
Dean trudged to the back, murmuring under his breath, and was able to slip out the spare tire with out letting any of the other "equipment" in the back be shown to the imploring eyes of the old man.
By then, Sam was already in deep conversation with the cheery old man.
"Where's your car?" Sam asked, scoping the nearby streets for a sign of where the old man came from.
The man hefted the tire and jack from Dean, placing them on the ground, looking at the tools intently.
"Don't have a car. Don't have a house." The man said, smiling.
Sam was not expecting that answer. Dean stopped his scrutinizing and starred at the man.
"But…" he began, only to be cut off.
"I don't need those things." The man said, grunting as he moved the tire closer to the car.
Sam and Dean instinctively reached in to help, but stopped short as they saw the man, with more power they thought possible, work on removing the tire on the car as if he was an expert.
"I mean, I used to have those things and much more. But they didn't make me happy."
Sam and Dean locked eyes for a moment, before returning their attention to the man who transfixed them with the speed and accuracy in which he worked.
"Well they did…" he continued. "…but being happy for the wrong reasons is as bad as not being happy at all."
"I needed something more, and I found it six years ago, this very day." He said. The rest of the time he worked in silence. Dean watched every move he made making sure he did nothing wrong to the car.
After the tire was successfully replaced, the old man stood up and wiped his beard with one hand and his brow with the other.
"There!" he exclaimed before pausing. "One more thing…"
There was an eerie silence as he reached into his pocket and shuffled around. A smile lit up on his face as he pulled out a small rectangular object and placed it in Dean's hand.
For a moment the two met eyes, old and experienced, with young and restless, before the old man turned and faded into the night with a "Merry Christmas!".
Dean barely heard Sam yell a "Merry Christmas" after him as he inspected the small object in his hands.
"What is it?" Sam asked as he huddled closer to his brother.
Dean gulped as he picked up the paper that went with the object.
"It's a room key…For the motel down the street."
Sam froze, taking in his brother's appearance of shook.
"Floor two, room twenty-eight."
The two brothers locked eyes before shrugging and sliding into the impala.
It was worth a shot.
The room was there just as the paper had said. A two queen bed sweet with a single bathroom and even warm water.
Warm air greeted both boys as they stepped into the room.
A small book caught Dean's eye on the bed nearest the door with a paper carefully taped to the leather cover. He sat down hesitantly and pulled off the paper off.
His eyes scanned over the flowing script that read:
Dear Sam and Dean,
I hope you find what you are looking for.
Sincerely,
Clarence
Dean froze and noticed that Sam was hovering over him, reading the letter also.
There was stillness for a moment.
Dean made the first move, reaching for the book and sliding his fingers into the crisp pages. A part of the book had already been marked off by a flowing red ribbon.
He mouthed the words, surprised when Sammy read them for him.
"And lo the angles appeared in hosts to the shepherds singing glory be to God on highest, and on earth, peace, good will towards men."
Sam gulped, remembering the present in his jacket, and handed it to his brother.
"Merry Christmas" he said, giving one last glance to his brother before retiring to his own bed.
Dean, still shocked by the happening of the night, squeezed the green wrapping paper tightly before ripping it off the small object.
Dean gulped down tears as he starred at the metal small necklace that held a protection ritual down the side.
He glanced up to see Sam lying peacefully in his bed, causing an image of when they were younger to flash into his head.
"Merry Christmas, Sammy." Dean whispered, grasping his presents tightly.
It was then he realized that he had three gifts this Christmas; the most valuable one almost forgotten.
He set his Bible and necklace on the desk and switched off the light, plunging the room into darkness.
In the next bed, Sammy smiled in his sleep.
Maybe this Christmas isn't so bad after all…
Where tears fall: Ok, you can go ahead and burn me, I really don't mind! MERRY CHRISTMAS:)