It was Christmas Eve and the mall was packed with late night revellers and families doing last minute shopping. There were carols playing through a tinny and crackling PA system and a rather worn out looking Santa Claus was ringing a small bell chanting 'Ho, ho, ho' in a rather hoarse and scratchy voice.

Sam Winchester sat against one of the shop fronts, long legs stretched out in front of him, his eyes fixed on some distant point; this was the first Christmas that they would spend without their father and he was both saddened and unsurprised that it felt no different from any other Christmas at any other time.

Even when dad was alive they hadn't celebrated the festive season. Sam had distant memories of rickety trees in musty hotel rooms and presents, wrapped by Dean, in old newspaper. He couldn't recall the last time he had actually gotten a card or even sent one; Jess had once brought him an embarrassingly large red bear that wore Santa hat and sang Merry Christmas, but apart from that one gesture, he hadn't actually received anything, from Santa or from anyone.

He wondered when Dean would be back. He had gone to the drug store to buy pain killers and needed some strong enough to kill his latest hang over. Sam had been pleasantly surprised when Dean had suggested they stop hunting and have a little Christmas vacation, but he had been less surprised by the fact that Dean's idea of festive cheer was to drink tequila and hit on big breasted women. Sam yawned and rubbed a hand through his hair, god it needed cutting but there was no one to really care what he looked like and he wondered if he would end up like some aged surfer dude with a mullet or a pony tail.

Bored with waiting, he got up from the floor and began to wander, aimlessly, around the mall. He forced a smile as Santa rang his bell in his face, he gave an old woman, collecting for something or other, a dollar and he barely avoided tripping over a gaggle of small children who stood with their noses pressed up against a store window, oohing and ahhing at something that had clearly gotten their attention. Sam pulled himself up to his full height and looked through the, slightly smeary, glass, his own breath caught in his throat when he saw it and he felt his stomach clench with a desperate wanting that he hadn't felt for years.

It was a puppy, a Labrador, small and brown eyed, its ears pricked alertly, its paw lifted in dumb appeal. It sat on its own on the grimy pet store floor, looking lost, alone and in need of a home. Sam figured that it was probably illegal and immoral to have the dog here, in a store in the middle of a crowded mall, but he ignored his inner voices and continued to stare, as entranced as the children, lost for a moment, his pounding and stubborn heart refusing to listen to his more sensible head. Sam paused for a moment, then, mindless of the warning bell which was now screaming in his head, he went into the store.

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When Dean finally got out of the drug store – God how long was that queue, he was tired and his headache was worse. All he really wanted to do was to go back to the motel, have a long shower and fall into bed watching reruns of 'It's a Wonderful Life'. He was barely aware of the decorations or the carols and he had some sympathy for Santa who was now looking as if he wanted to lie down and die. He looked over to the store where he had left Sam and was surprised to see his little brother surrounded by children. It wasn't that Sam didn't like kids, it was just that he very rarely had much to do with them. Dean sighed and hoped Sam had not gotten into some sort of trouble, as much as he was always up for a fight, Dean was just too exhausted to cope with much right now.

He missed his dad, that much was true, and even though he had finally admitted to Sammy how he really felt, it hadn't made him feel that much better. He found it hard to stay focused; found it hard to keep it together. He felt as if he were burdened, not just with the truth of John's death, but the secret he had been told and the weight of responsibility. He found himself looking, for the first time, at the Christmas things surrounding him; the bright colours, the flickering lights, the happy faces. They hadn't done really happy for a long, long time and he could barely remember the last time either of them had cracked more than a false smile or a snarky laugh. He quickened his step, suddenly desperate to get back to Sam.

The children parted like waves on a beach as Dean approached and he watched as they stepped back to give him full access to his brother. Sam was leaning against the store, holding something in his arms. For a moment Dean's heart stopped beating and he panicked, was it some child that had been hurt? Had something happened whilst he had been at the drug store? Then he realised that the something was small and very lively, he also noticed that the something had fur and was wriggling in his brother's arms, pressing a very pink tongue against his brother's neck. "Sammy" it was a harsh, warning tone and Sam looked up, deep red spreading across his cheeks, his eyes virtually hidden by too long hair "Sammy what the fu-heck?"

"Hi Dean" the look on his big brother's face said it all and Sam wondered, not for the first time, what he had been thinking. He snorted a wry laugh, he hadn't actually been thinking at all. He had seen the dog, the dog had seen him and that was it. He held the furry bundle a little closer to his chest and lifted his chin with some defiance "This isn't what you think"

"And what am I thinking Sammy?" Dean's voice held a note of unease and anger "You're the psychic one"

"It was on its own Dean" Sam was burbling and they both knew it "I just couldn't leave it there"

"So you bought it?" Dean shook his head "How?"

"Credit card" Sam had the good grace to lower his head and look ashamed.

For a moment, Dean stared at his brother, but he couldn't, for the life of him, think of anything to say. Sam was bent over the pup, his long hair brushing its face, his big hands cradling it like it was a child. All Dean could see was Sammy, his baby brother, the boy who had always wanted a dog, who had wept when his father had refused him yet another request. Dean saw a boy who had never really had much of a childhood, no real Christmas's, no birthday celebrations, no permanent schooling. God, he loved his dad, but they had been forced to grow up way too fast and now they were both paying the price for his vengeance and his tunnel vision. He saw how pale Sam was, how uncomfortable his hand looked in that cast, he saw his too long hair, the hollow of his cheeks, the shadows under his eyes. He closed his own eyes for a moment "Come on" he hissed "Lets get moving and if that mutt so much as drools in the car – you are licking it clean with your tongue – understand?"

Sam stared at his brother and clutched the dog closer; he had the wildest impulse to shout 'Can I really keep him' at his brother, but resisted that temptation. He knew he was walking on very thin ice here, but he was prepared to walk carefully. He smiled down at his new friend and ran a finger through velvet fur "That's Dean" he whispered "He can be an asshole at times – but at least he's our asshole" and with that he followed his brother out of the mall.

TBC