Supernatural Carol

"Dean," Jo called.

He turned with a grin, going to her and holding her tight, "I've missed you." He pulled back, looking at her, waiting for her to say something. Though, what was there to say?

She nodded and smiled, "I know. It wasn't all bad, was it?"

He frowned, "What do you mean?"

"Dean, you so often focus on the crap side of your life and everything that comes with hunting. Certainly, it's been hard. But, it wasn't all bad was it? Me, Sam, you know you've even let yourself have fun a time or two…"

Dean allowed himself a small smile, but asked, "Jo, why does that matter?"

He went to take her face in his hands, but she merely took his hand in both of hers, "They're the moments that let you laugh, that keep you sane and you're forgetting about them, making decisions with a hardened heart."

He shook his head, "I'm just doing what I've always done. What I've had to."

"Do you really believe that? Maybe you've always done what you've had to; but, the way you're doing that is changing and you're losing what everyone loves about you, Dean. Hunting recently, Sam, Cas. Since when do you act like that?"

When he didn't answer, she continued, "So, everything isn't really the same as it always has been?"

"No. Of course it isn't," he said, frustrated and looking down.

"But, yet…you wish it could be the same, don't you?"

"What's your point, Jo?"

She smiled again, looking down for a second as she nodded, "Alright, then. I'll cut to the chase. But…I'm not Jo. Well, not quite." Before Dean could question what she was going on about, he watched the figure morph into a much less solid form with a glow about her, yet still a pretty blonde girl.

Dean pulled out his gun, unsure of what was going on and ready to shoot if necessary.

"What are you? What's going on?"

"You're dreaming. And you can shoot me if you want; it won't do you any good."

He shook his head, "Great. Another one of you dick angels."

The figure in front of him sighed, shaking her head, "No. Not an angel. More of a guide. Dean, do you realize it's almost the holidays?"

"What? So? I don't do Christmas."

"You used to."

The bar they'd been in morphed into a familiar slightly-run down-off-the-highway motel. There was a small Christmas tree decorated with a fairly sloppy string of lights and two young boys perched on the couch.

"Thank you, Sam. I love it," the older of the two said, putting a gold necklace, or amulet might be a better term, around his neck.

Dean opened his mouth, but was at a loss for words as he looked to the figure next to him for an explanation.

"You recognize it?"

Dean just stared at his very little brother. Did he recognize it? Of course he did. Here, Sam had just discovered about monsters and put more faith in him than their father, giving him a Christmas present meant for their dad when he hadn't showed. Yet, did Dean recognize them? He tried to match that Sam with the Sam that had laid so still in that damn hospital bed and had since been walking around bipolar and hunting by his side. What explanation could he give to his little brother now eyeing the girl toys Dean had managed to come up with, picking up the tassled baton, "Hey, Dean. Catch."

"Huh?" he asked, instinctively catching the stick that instantly sent specks of glitter all over him to match his baby brother. "Gee, thanks, Sammy."

The figure next to him turned, "You say things aren't the same. But, yet, that's still Sam and that's still you," she pointed to each boy in turn. "Yet, you've let years strip away what you used to be, but why should it have to?"

In the next second, the two boys had grown up and were outside of an old factory at night. Dean was laughing his head off as Sam stood in front of him, covered in glitter.

The blonde figure next to him turned to him again, "Some decisions should stay the same, no?"

Dean shrugged.

The figure considered him, "Alright. Maybe that's too light."

As the scene around him changed again, Dean froze, staring at a certain demon strung up in an elaborate iron Devil's Trap.

"What the hell are we doing here?"
"You think life's not the same anymore, a lot harder than before and so your decisions and attitude had to change? Yet, just the other day you had another lad strung up. Except, well, you're right that your attitude's changed."

"Everybody's dying these days and hey, I get it. You're all powerful, you can make me do whatever you want, but you can't make me do this."

Dean bit his lip, shaking his head, imploring, "What's your point, huh? What do you want from me?"
"I just want you to realize that sure, the details might be different; but, the important things haven't changed. You justify your actions saying things have changed. The way you've been acting, you're right. But, the situations are still the same and you're making decisions you never would have in the past. You still have your life. You're still hunting. You still have Sam and you've always looked after him. Those things have never changed, so why did your attitude have to? I can't make you go back and I'm not even necessarily saying you need to. But, ask yourself: which version of you did you like better?

Dean was back in the bar, but there was no one next time him, "Freaking angels!"

"Well, I remember a time when I thought you were kind of into them."

Dean whipped around to see a slim, red-headed woman, "Anna? Well, that might have changed when you tried to kill my family! What do you want?"

In answer, he watched her form change just slightly as Jo's had, except she wasn't glowing, "Oh good. Let me guess. Not quite an angel."

"The one before me came to you as Jo, someone mixed in both sadness and joy as she showed you things past likewise. Indeed, the importance of what is past cannot be understated. Yet, in the past it was and make of it what you will. I think you're a little more concerned about the present and a few angels. Am I right?"

Dean let out a disbelieving laugh, "You've gotta be kidding me."

"Am I right? Castiel? Ezekiel?"

The bar changed into the bunker's living room and Dean was between his brother and Cas. He shot a look at his brother he'd just left, going into another room, "Cas, you can't stay."

Anna looked at Dean and when he didn't say anything, changed the scene.

Dean recognized Cas with a fresh cut on his arm, missing shoes and a sleeve torn. Standing almost as if uncertain of entering, he was outside of St. Anne's shelter where the two priests had been strung up with their eyes blown out

"Clarence?" A man called. Dean recognized him from earlier, the one who'd told them Cas had moved on. "What happened?"

Cas didn't meet the man's eyes, "I thought I was ready to move on. Turns out I overestimated what I thought I knew about people in this world."

The man frowned, but invited, "Why don't you come inside? You weren't so bad off here before."

"I've already overstayed my welcome a few times. I needn't do it again."

The man shook his head, "Look. I don't know what happened, but this place doesn't have a reputation of turning people away who need it. You look like you need it again and you don't seem the type to take advantage of it. So, come back and see about staying awhile longer. At least take a few moments to rest and clean up. We can't just send you away when you don't even have something to walk in."

Cas looked down, almost as if just realizing what he was missing, "Well, I suppose…I won't stay long, I promise."

"Yea, alright," his friend placated.

"Cas," Dean groaned, "What did you already get yourself into?"

"Is it so different from how quickly you find trouble?" Anna asked Dean, shifting the scene to what must be a few days later.

"I was trying to protect him," Dean mumbled.

"Mm," Anna said, "Yet…you were trying to protect Sam more. You thought you had to choose, but perhaps you're not seeing all the choices. Does this really seem right to you?"

They were now in what seemed to be a storage area in the back of a shop. It was dimly light with natural light coming in from a back window. A figure was rolling up a bagged toothbrush inside of a sleeping bag that he was shoving under the shelves before walking into the front of the store.

"Cas…" Dean turned to Anna, "Alright, you know what, I'm sick of angels just plucking me where they feel like and I don't need this Christmas Carol crap. You think I don't feel like shit for turning him out already? I didn't have a choice!"

She sighed, "I'm not an angel, Dean. Just a guide trying to help you, as was the last. I'm just trying to help you see that by telling yourself you have no choice, you're losing everything you have in your so called decisions. Tell me, I thought you believed in free will. Is it free will if you have no choice? Or, are you going to do something about it? But, if you truly want me to leave…"

"Yes!" he all but growled.

"Very well, but first hear now these two things: You think you're alone in this and you think you're doing good, or at least what you need. I wouldn't be here if you were alone in this. Take a look around and at your friend to see, too, there are worse fates than yours, Dean. Take a look at how attitude affects loneliness. Attitude the worse of the two because it is inherently a part of each of us and can lead us to think we are doing right by what we have to; and, you don't see that it eventually alienates you. Beware you don't truly end up alone."

She disappeared then, but the scene didn't change back to the bar, leaving him to watch Cas for a while until he felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning around, he very nearly shot the figure all in black with even its face in shadow. Shooting it still wasn't out of the question, "Alright, you know, I'm going to take a shot in the dark and say you're buddies with the past two crazies I've run into most recently. I'll say it one last time. Leave me the hell alone!"

The figure didn't answer him, merely changed the scene.

Kevin was asking, "Have you noticed anything wrong with Dean lately? Between you and me, I'm a little bit worried about him."

Sam responded, "Don't worry about Dean. Dean will be fine."

"No." Dean looked from the figure back to the scene unfolding in the bunker. His brother raised a hand to Kevin, leaving the kid with no eyeballs dead on the ground. Dean ran to Kevin, "No!" He also saw this impossible scene's version of himself flung into a wall. "Sam?!"

Ezekiel told him, "There is no more Sam, but I played him convincingly, I thought. I heard you talk with Kevin Tran tonight. Alter the sigil, even the slightest, alter the spell. Sorry about Kevin, but ultimately, it's for the best. I did what I had to."

Son of a bitch and another denial crossed his mind, but Dean could only stare at…his brother walk away; he was as unable to move and perhaps more stunned than his other self crumpled on the floor there. He'd tried to tell himself Cas would be fine. Kevin would be fine. The thing with Ezekiel wasn't going to be permanent and his was doing what he had to to keep Sam alive. That's what he had told himself. Yet, he heard those words tossed back at him in a context that was all screwed up.

He was shaking his head, whispering again, "No." It took Dean a minute to realize he was awake and that the watch on the nightstand next to him in the bunker was telling him it was morning. He shook his head, trying to tell himself it was just a dream or he'd just had too much to drink after telling Cas he couldn't stay yesterday. Yet, he knew he hadn't imagined it and it wasn't the result of a hangover because he didn't imagine things and he woke up from a hangover with a headache, if anything, but certainly not about to cry.

He swallowed before shooting out of bed calling "Kevin? Kevin!"

In the bunker's living room, Dean saw Kevin groggily waking up on the couch, "Yeah. I'm up. What?"

Papers that had been in front of Kevin scattered as Dean pulled him into a tight hug.

"Yeah, ok. Good morning to you, too, Dean," Kevin said, puzzled and pulling back.

"Kevin," Dean nodded, "Ok, look, have you seen Sam?"

"I just woke up," he replied, bewildered. "What is going?"

Dean looked around, tossed Kevin a jacket while writing a note to Sam saying they'd gone out for a milk run. "We need a few things. Come on."

In the next ten minutes, Dean pulled the Impala over next to a gas station and pulled out his cell.

It took five rings before a tired and somewhat confused voice answered, "Hello?"

"Cas," Dean answered.

"Dean?"

Dean didn't waste any words, "Ok, look. I realize I have no right to be asking you for anything right now, but I swear I had my reasons-I also realize those reasons were crap but….I need your help. It's about Sam."

"What can I do, Dean? Without my powers, I'm…there's not much I can do. Everything's different now."

Dean hung his head, "I didn't want…you know what, I do have time for this. Kevin's here too, hang on and none of us are giving up." Dean switched to speaker, "Sam…isn't Sam. Back in the hospital, Ezekiel said he could only heal him if…from inside."

"He took Sam as a vessel?" Cas asked, surprised, "That sounds like neither Sam or Ezekiel."

"Yeah, well, I sort of, tricked Sam…I thought I had no choice, but I know now we need to fix this."

"Shouldn't you be telling your brother, not me?" Cas asked.

Dean looked at Kevin, and shaking his head, admitted, "I can't trust him, Cas. I really screwed up. I needed to talk to you two alone. Cas, can you get here? Kevin, stay away from Sam and look for anything that could help."

"Dean, are you sure that's the best idea?" Cas asked, "Me being there?"
"I don't know, but we need you."

"Alright," Cas sighed, "I'll get there as soon as I can."

"Thank you," Dean replied, hanging up.

Fifteen minutes later, Dean was getting out of the care with a bag of groceries when Kevin asked, "Dean, what brought this on?"

Dean considered a moment, "Well, I guess I had to learn to stop lying to myself about what was best."

AN: I do not own Supernatural. Italic text was used from "A Very Supernatural Christmas", "On the Head of a Pin", "I'm No Angel" and "Holy Terror", respectively. Reviews are appreciated. Enjoy the holidays!