Disclaimer: I wished for the boys for Christmas, but they remained allusive. They still belong to the wonderful Mr. Kripke.
A/N: I really did try to get this out before Christmas, but I wrote this in response to a Christmas writing challenge. I needed to get it edited, then judged before I could post it. I hope I do Christmas and the boys justice, though. There's lots of flashback in it too! Please tell me what you think.
Merry Freakin' Christmas
'One more day until Christmas. One more day just like any other day to a Winchester.'
"I hate this time of year," commented Dean as the boys walk through the extensively decorated mall.
Saying nothing, Sam hastily walks past a frosty the snowman mascot, who was making a desperate attempt to hug him.
It is December 24, but today is a day just like any other to a Winchester. Sam never really remembers a proper Christmas.
Certain things would trigger a memory for Dean, though. Now, he catches a whiff of pastry from a holiday baked goods stand, and recalls the same smell from long ago...
"Dean, honey, come here," Mary's voice says over the quiet hum of Christmas music.
Dean totters over, prying himself from the Christmas tree, and Mary catches him in an embrace. "Mommy?"
Mary laughs softly. "Here, Dean, try this." She hands him a freshly baked Christmas cookie with a green Christmas tree printed on it.
It's warm to the touch, and Dean melts as the warm treat touches his lips. He bites greedily into the cookie and smiles joyfully, "Yummy, mommy."
"Yummy, mommy? They're good then?" Mary asks, smiling.
"Yea," Dean replies and gives Mary another hug.
"And where's my cookie, mommy?" asks a deep voice from the kitchen doorway.
"Daddy!" Dean rushes over to his father, who bends down and lifts Dean into the air, swinging him around in a circle.
Mary strides forward. "What do you say, Dean? Should we give Daddy a cookie?" Mary coos softly to Dean.
Dean cheerfully yells, "Yea."
"Yea? Well, OK then." Mary slips a cookie into John's mouth and the older man bites down. Still chewing, Mary gives him a kiss on the lips, before John puts Dean back on the ground, and finishes the rest of the fresh cookie.
Dean smiles happily, then returns to his tree watching.
It was the best and only Christmas Dean ever remembered with Mary. It was still a bit fuzzy to him and sometimes he so desperately wished he could remember the details, but he could still remember the smell of the freshly baked cookies.
Sam snaps his fingers in front of Dean's still face. "Dean, dude, what's up?"
Dean rapidly blinks a few times before saying, "Nothing, nothing. Come on, let's go get the... whatever we need." Dean drags his gaze away from the bake stand and walks slightly behind his brother through the rest of the mall.
On their way back through the mall, after picking up some extra salt, the boys discover a newly set up Santa display. They watch as a line up of kids begins to form. From behind the boys, a young elf, about 21 years old, walks up to Dean and places a big fluffy Santa hat on his head, before giggling and walking away.
Dean whirls around to face the woman, but she has already regained her position beside Santa. Sam laughs at the hat on Dean's head. "Dude..." Sam chuckles.
Winking at the young elf, Dean rips off the hat and sneakily places it upon Sam's bare head. Immediately stopping his consistent chuckles, Sam flinches as the soft fur rubs his brow. "Dean..." he says as he pulls the hat off of his head.
Dean smiles. "You looked good."
Sam huffs at his brother. "I thought you hated this holiday."
Dean only shrugs and walks out the big mall doors. Sam follows suit, giving the red Santa hat to a Santa ringing a small yellow bell outside. "Merry Christmas," Sam shouts over his shoulder.
- - - - - -
Back at the motel, Dean is leaning over a weapons bag, stuffing in all the necessary items for the hunt. "Shovel? Good... Lighter? Good... I think we have everything. Let's get this done."
Looking up from his laptop, Sam nods and grabs his jacket. "Cool."
- - - - - -
A lone house stands in the dark of night, its windows broken, its doors on its hinges, its walls old and crumbling. The three stairs leading into the house are broken and the pathway is over grown with weeds. The two story old house stands, intimidating, against the dark sky of night.
Neither Sam nor Dean takes a second glance at this, though. It is nothing new. Stepping out of the car, thought, they do notice that a light is on in a room on the second floor. The light glows warmly, but the boys take it as a bad sign and sneak quietly into the ominous house.
The floor creak under their weight as they carefully explore the house, keeping their ears open. Dean flicks his drawn gun toward to single set of stairs and, single file, they head upstairs to the suspected light. Sam lightly places his hand on the rail to step around a rotted hole in a stair, but the railing was unstable. It snaps off and Sam lets go of it, letting it fall to the old floor below. The crash echoes through the dark house, reverberating off the wooden walls. Dean abruptly turns around and gives Sam a desperate questioning look.
Sam ducks his head, and shrugs his shoulder, as Dean huffs and continues his trek up the stair. Following, Sam avoids the railing.
The first room is empty with only a single bed and wooden chair in the corner. The second room was an emptied bathroom with only a single tub at the side. Dean slows at he approaches the third room, though. He quickly spots light creeping out from under the door. Dean signals for Sam to go to the other side of the door.
Standing in front of the door, Dean points the gun at the wooden door, nods to Sam, and slams his right foot hard against the obstructing object. They burst into the room, guns pointed, but the only thing in there is... well Christmas decorations.
There are strings of lights wrapped around the room, mistletoe strung up on the ceiling, and a single Christmas tree sparkling in the lights. Neither boy is able to move as the lights and the decorations mesmerize them.
Dean's eyes settle on a single ornament hanging on the tree, a single golden ball...
"Dean, pass me the box of ornaments," Mary says as she stands in front of the newly set up tree.
Dean happily grabs the box of gold ornaments and walks over to his mother.
John sits at the dining room table, watching his family decoration the real pine Christmas tree. He smiles to himself.
Dean and Mary each take a different side of the tree and start to put of the golden balls. Then, there is only one left. Mary grabs the biggest golden ball and hands it to Dean. Picking him up under his arms, Mary lets Dean place the ball near the top of the tree. The young boy smiles as the golden ornament shimmers in the glow of the white Christmas lights.
Dean's thoughts are disturbed as a resounding crash is heard through the room, and Dean ducks just in time as a Christmas globe flies over his head.
"You are trying to ruin my Christmas!" screeches a high-pitched woman's voice. Sam and Dean both face their foe, a young woman standing in the doorway. "This is my Christmas! Leave!" And she sends Sam flying across the room, into the far wall.
Dean faces the brunette dead woman. Pointing his rock salt shot gun at the woman, he fires. She disappears into thin air. "Sammy, you all right?" Dean shouts over his shoulder.
Sam rises to his feet. "Yep."
"Good. Let's go before it comes back." And Dean slips out of the room without a word.
After hastily finishing their search of the house, the boys then go out to the cold backyard. Splitting up, Sam goes left and Dean goes right and begin to search the woods and around the house.
Within 5 minutes they meet back up at the front of the house just in front of the house.
"Find anything?" Dean chimes.
"No, you?"
"Nothing except for a couple raccoons feeding on the scraps of their own Christmas dinner," Dean replies.
"Huh?" asks Sam.
Dean waves his hand. "Never mind."
Sam searches the darkness for any signs of movement. "What now?"
But before Dean can answer, the chilly wind picks up and the house shakes from the force of nature. A flashing catches Dean's eye. The single light on in the house begins to flicker. "Trouble."
Glancing up at the flickering light, Sam tightens his grip on his shotgun. There is another crash in the single room.
Dean and Sam both take off toward the room. Barging into the room once more, they see the enraged woman throwing Christmas objects around the room, stirring up a sparkling storm. Then a peculiar sounds starts in the room. A small radio in the corner begins to tune, and after a moment it stops on a cheerful Christmas song, Grandpa Got Run Over By A Beer Truck. The young brunette screams with rage as the song rings through the room. The radio begins to tune once more and this time lands on Have A Holly Jolly Christmas.
Dean moans, listening to the sounds of music chime happily across the room.
Have a holly, jolly Christmas;
It's the best time of the year
I don't know if there'll be snow
But have a cup of cheer
Have a holly, jolly Christmas;
And when you walk down the street
Say Hello to friends you know
And everyone you meet
Oh ho
The mistletoe
Hung where you can see;
Somebody waits for you;
Kiss her once for me
Have a holly, jolly, Christmas
And in case you didn't hear
Oh by golly
Have a holly
Jolly Christmas this year
John is singing loudly and very out of tune as the song plays on the radio in the living room. Dean has his eyes closed and Mary has her hands over her son's ears. She is smiling as her husband attempts some good holiday cheer, but is inside thinking that she will never ask John to sing again.
But the crash of the tree blocks the song. "Leave! Leave now!" the young woman screeches.
Glaring at the distraught woman, Dean yells, "Sorry lady. We can't have you hurting anymore people." He points his gun at her head and fires again. Everything in the room drops to the floor and silence is all that's left.
Dean opens his gun, dropping the empty shells, and putting replacement rock salt cartridges in it; he slams the gun shut, hard.
"Come on, Sam. We've got to find that damned body." Dean rushes out of the room once more without Sam.
Sam glances around the destroyed room, then his eyes catch onto something on the ceiling. "Dean! You might want to come see this."
There is evident creaking as Dean makes his way back to the room. "What?" He follows Sam's gaze up to the ceiling. "Oh," he remarks. "Good work, Sammy," Dean states, referring to a small metal handle stuck up in the ceiling, barely visible, the rust blending it in to the rest of the room.
Walking over to the Christmas tree lying on its side, Dean rips off a long branch and walks over to the handle. "Go find a chair," Dean orders.
Mocking a bow, Sam walks out of the room to grab the wooden chair in the other room.
Dean manages to dislodge the handle from the ceiling just as Sam walks in with the rotting wooden chair. Dean climbs onto the unstable chair and, prying with all his might, finally pulls down the attic door. The room suddenly fills with the rank smell of rotting flesh. "I think we found it," the young hunter replies.
Sam nods and helps Dean up into the attic. There is a bit of rustling as Dean's jeans scrape against the hard wooden floor. Sam then hears a small squeal of fright.
"Dean?"
"Shut up!"
Sam widens his eyes as he stutters, "I didn't say..."
Dean interrupts him. "Rats!" After a bit more rustling Dean says, "I hate you so much."
Sam can only smile as his brother suffers with his worst enemy. But suddenly the temperature in the room drops exponentially and a small breeze in the dead room picks up. "Crap," says Sam as he swings around to face the enraged young woman. Sam aims his gun and doesn't hesitate as he fires... But the ghost remains. "What the..." He takes aim one more time and shoots... Still nothing. "Dean problem."
"Hold on, I found her," Dean shouts from the attics.
Sam takes three big steps back. "Yea, well, so did I." Sam ducks as the wooden chair flies at his head. "Salt gun!"
There is not a sound from above as the shot gun falls through the ceiling, right in front of the ghost. Sam takes a single step forward before lunging toward the gun and grasping his big hand around the handle. The young woman obviously did not appreciate this as Sam goes flying across the room again, the gun streaming out of his grip.
Sam is pinned!
But the spirit does not even get a single step toward Sam when there is a burst of light from the hole in the roof and a squeal as the flame engulfs the young woman's body.
The brunette screams as her body slowly turns to ash. She gets her last words out as she screams, "I just wanted a nice Christmas." Then she was gone.
Dean had been listening. He says, "Christmas is so over-rated," then he jumps back through the hole. He nods his head toward the door.
As they leave, the smell of burning rotten wood fills the house. They plug their noses and make a run for the door.
A few minutes later, sitting on the hood on the car, Dean says, "Good riddance, Gracie."
Sam watches as the flames explode from the windows...
"But our house?" chimes a little boy.
"We can get a new one. The most important thing is that you are alright," replies the mother on the television.
"Sam, why are you watching that?" asks little Dean.
Sam shrugs from the brown couch. "It has a good story to it."
Dean watches as the family on the TV stands in the snow, watching their home go up in flames. He sighs as walks over to the couch, flopping down right beside his little brother.
There are a few more minutes of happy family bonding then the credits roll. Dean has no response to the Christmas movie.
Sam asks, "So, how was the last few minutes."
Dean says absolutely nothing.
"Hey, Dean?"
"Yea, Sammy."
"Can we watch cartoons now?" Sam asks hopefully.
Dean chuckles and nods his head. Sam smiles and flips on Nina's Adventures, the one where they all want to boycott Christmas. Dean leans more comfortably into the couch. Sam watches the television intently.
"Sammy? Sam!"
Sam flinches and refocuses his eyes on the flames.
"Dude, you alright?"
Sam swallows. "Yea, fine."
Nodding his head skeptically, Dean says, "Come on. We still got to call the cops and get out of here before they arrive." Dean hits his brother on the arm before throwing his stuff in the back of the car and crawling into the driver's side.
Sam takes one more glance at the flames before following suit.
They both watch as the flames dance through the roof.
Sam's small watch beeps, revealing that it is now midnight. He smiles. "Merry Christmas, Dean."
Dean scoffs at his brother before replying, "Yea, merry freakin' Christmas." He chuckles before shaking his head, starting the car, and driving off, leaving the burning house in their rear view mirror.
The End
A/N: I hope it was OK. I did write it in a rush, like I wrote it in 2 days, so please tell me what you think... what I can improve on... whatever. Thanks all for reading!