"Dean we're going to be late!"
"I still don't understand why I have to go to this parade, and Sam gets to stay in the bunker? I don't think it's fair," he pouted.
Just as Dean finished his sentence, Sam let out a sneeze so loud it seemed to shake his entire body.
"And that's why he gets to stay here," she said with a smile.
You put your coat on grabbing a hat and mittens off of the table, putting them in your pockets. You grabbed another stocking cap off the table and placed it on Dean's head. "Let's go." You could see Sam holding back a laugh. "Oh, leave him be," You said giving the younger Winchester a shove. "I think he looks dashing," you said ruffling the cap on Dean's head. For sure making a mess of the hair underneath. "But we're going to be late if we don't leave right now," you said with a glance at your phone and a tug at Dean's arm.
With a quick wave or your hand, you ran up the iron stairs of the bunker pulling Dean behind.
The two of you watched the Christmas Parade in silence. Dean's arms wrapped snuggly around you. His chin rested contentedly on the top of your head. Neither said a word, just stood absorbing the beauty of the Christmas lights, the excitement of the children running around.
You sighed contentedly, leaning back to sink deeper into the security of Dean's arm. His arms tightened minutely as another child raced past nearly stepping on your feet to get a handful of candy,
"Guess this isn't so bad." Dean said pulling you impossibly closer.
"You big softy," you said tilting your head up to meet his eyes. "I knew you'd like it." You rubbed a mittened hand against the arms encircling you, feeling as calm and serene as you had in a long time. Since you had met the Winchesters and started dating Dean everything had been a rush, a blur of constant movement. This was the first time you weren't running for our lives or fighting some monster that only existed for other people in nightmares and horror movies. You were able to just relax and enjoy each other's company. "Too bad Sam got sick. He would have enjoyed this, I think."
"The big dork he is, he definitely would have gotten a kick outta this. But I'm kind of glad he couldn't make it," Dean said leaning his face close to your own to kiss your cheek then allowing his lips to lightly brush yours before returning his eyes to the parade. "I like having time just the two of us."
"Then you're in luck Winchester."
"I am," Dean asked sounding genuinely confused. "How so?"
"I texted Sam, and he's doing fine. So I have one more family Christmas tradition I want to share with you before we head back."
"What Christmas tradition? I feel like this night couldn't get any better. I mean you already shared the Secret Santa with me and Sammy and Cass. And now this parade. What else could there possibly be?"
"Maybe if he used the beanie I got him, he wouldn't be sick," you grumbled.
"You know Sam," Dean said shaking his head. "The boy who hates Christmas can't accept any presents. It would ruin his reputation." He chuckled. "Plus with him stuck in the bunker with Cass, that means I get more alone time with you," Dean said nuzzling the top of your head and coming to stand next to you. "Now what's this surprise?"
"Can't tell you or it wouldn't be a surprise. I just have to show you." You smiled mischievously.
"What could you possibly show me that could be better than this?" You couldn't resist grinning even larger at pure perplexed look that covered Dean's face.
"Not better, just different. Let's go," You grasped Dean's hand firmly and rushed into the people that have begun to scatter. You navigated deftly pulling him along behind you.
"Whoa, I'm coming. What's the hurry? Couldn't we wait until there's less people?" you could feel the resistance as Dean was pushed aside, by another hurrying couple
"We have to get there before it opens," you stated, holding back the urge to mentally roll your eyes at all of the older Winchester's questions. You fought back the urge to snap at him to stop being like his brother and just hurry up.
"Before what opens? Why won't you tell me where we're going?"
You sigh but yell over the noise of the crowd. "It wouldn't be a surprise if I told you. And before you ask, it's a good surprise. You'll like it. Just wait and see."
You could sense Dean's confusion growing. And you could imagine the loops of questions running circles in his mind. Where were you going? What were you going to do there? Why was it a surprise? And why did you have to get there before it opened.
You glanced back, stopping in a lull of people to study Dean's face. "You said before the place opened right? Why would we want to get there before it opened? You're not taking me to some store to get some pre-Christmas deals on stuff are you?"
You turned complete to face him, knowing you had to make this quick before the gap you found dissolved and you both are trampled by other parade goers. "You're asking too many questions," you said chastising him like a kid with his hand in the cookie jar. "Would you just be quiet and follow me? You'll see when we get there. Dean Winchester, you are so impatient. Can't you wait and see? Just trust me."
He sighed before once again clasping your hand in preparation to navigate the growing crowd. People who had been watching the parade from different place than the two of you were now converging toward the same parking garage. Groups were beginning to separate, and people who had been watching the parade indoors now streamed out of buildings in droves to their cars.
As you searched for a clear path through the ever widening mass of people, you could feel Dean pressed against your back doing the same, his height giving him the advantage. You could feel his body turning this way and that not only trying to find a way through the crowd but also attempting to decipher where you were in route to. He was completely lost.
You sensed the shift in his body from lookout mode to protection mode almost instantaneously. His grip tightened as the mob surged forward. You snaked this way and that through the throngs of people. "Where are you taking me?" You heard his booming baritone struggling over the din.
You told him once again that it was a surprise, but you could tell in a moment your response was lost under the roar of overlapping voices. You could feel his hand clenching yours even tighter in fear. Through his hand you could feel the barely contained tension as it flowed from his hand to yours. His hunter instincts rose to the surface. Now instead of scouting a way, he was resisting the urge to run, to protect you from a perceived danger.
You squeezed his hand reassuringly instead of trying another verbal response, as a way to comfort him even though your voice had been swallowed by others. Taking another glimpse behind you, you could see he was wound tighter than a tied-up yo-yo. You could feel the alertness of his body stance, the coiling of his muscles like a snake ready to strike, to sweep you away from danger at a moment's notice.
Relax, you tried to telegraph through your joined hands before slipping once again into the crowd. Then you spotted it. Making sure your hand was firmly encased in Dean's own, your fingers intertwined in his, you took off at a quick jog and weaved your way back and forth until part of the crowd thinned and you were left standing in front of a doorway clearly decorated for Christmas.
You suppressed a laugh as Dean came up behind you rather quickly, and was forced to choose between running you over or ending up with a face full of garland. He chose the latter. And try as you might, the giggle still slipped out.
"Stupid, dangling weed. I never understood why people hang that stuff up anyway," he said swatting another unruly piece out of the way.
"Because it's pretty," you said giving him a peck on the cheek. "Well, here we are," you said with a flourished hand gesture toward the door.
"Where's here?" he asked. Then he looked up, and you watched as he read the plaque over the door. "Saint Mary's Soup Kitchen. Come in for food, fellowship, and faith."
You backed away from him slightly to get a better view. His gaze was intense as he read the sign. His brows furrowed deep in concentration. Dean turned back to you. "God, that name and the slogan sound so familiar. I just can't put my finger on it. If Sammy were here, he'd be able to tell you right away. Kid's got a mind like a vacuum cleaner, picks up anything and everything and remembers whatever you tell him down to the smallest detail. Damn it, that's going to drive me nuts."
"I'm sure you'll figure it out," you said comfortingly. You bit your lip in an effort to contain the smile wanting to burst forth at the secret you knew that Dean didn't.
"It's gonna bug me the rest of the night," he said, and you could hear the frustration in his voice. "I wish I could remember where I recognize it from."
"I'm sure it will come to you. Now come on," you said pulling at Dean's arm.
"But I thought you said this place was closed," Dead said the confusion clear in his voice.
"No, I didn't," you said with a laugh. "I just said it wasn't open yet."
"Isn't not open the definition of closed? Pretty sure they're the same thing." You could hear him getting irritated that small growl beginning to color his voice.
"Calm down. You'll understand in a minute or two. Now follow me." You squeezed his gloved hand pulling him along behind you like child dragging their exasperated parent through a toy store. You pushed the door which creaked open into a long hallway. Glancing back at Dean's face for a moment you watched his puzzled expression grow as you led the way past a half-dozen or so, religious statues.
"Where the he…?"
You squeezed his arm to cut him off. "Language."
"What are we doing in a church?" he amended.
"You ask a lot of questions Winchester."
"Well, you won't tell me a damn thing."
"Dean!" you scolded. "You just said we were in a church."
He ducked his head a little at the scolding. But when his eyes met yours again, they were sparkling impishly. "What you think God's going to smite me or something?"
"I would rather not take any chances."
Dean let out a deep belly laugh, nearly bending his body in half.
You loved that laugh, but now wasn't really the time or the place for it. "Shh."
"What?" he asked innocently.
"Stop it," you said shoving him playfully just as a nun rounded the corner. Dean lost his footing and nearly bowled her over.
You backed away in embarrassment, but Dean offered a charming smile to the nun's disapproving look. "Sorry, Sister," you mumbled nudging Dean to do the same.
However, his face still held the smile. "Yes, I apologize Sister. I'm sorry. Should have been watching where I was going."
"Sister we were trying to find the volunteer's entrance," you offered in an effort to explain your presence in the hallway.
"You've come in the wrong way," the nun said curtly. "It's that way, "she said stiffly pointing the way down a long winding hallway.
Dean raised his eyebrows at you questioningly. But to his credit the older Winchester didn't say a word just trailed along behind you, trusting your guidance. You navigated the twists and turns of the lengthy hallway the nun pointed you down, all the while feeling Dean's curiosity telegraphing itself between your linked hands.
You glanced back once to see Dean's eyes cloudy with a mixture of confusion, concern, and curiosity. But underneath it all a look of pure trust and faith in you. You resisted the urge to kiss him. One because you were in a church and were scared you might be seen by a nun. And two if you kissed him right now the two of you would never make it to your destination.
So instead of stopping to kiss away the confusion, you continued to lead the way until you came to a stop in a large dining hall. Tables were set up in rows upon rows, each covered in an orderly display of placemats, napkins, and plastic cutlery.
"What? Where…?" Dean stuttered seemingly at a loss for words.
You took his hand and let slip another small smile. This one a small smile of pride at leaving Dean speechless. Never before had you seen the older Winchester speechless.
"You'll see," you said one last time, pulling Dean across the room where a group of nuns was huddled by another door.
"Excuse me, Sisters, we were wondering if you could tell us if we are headed in the right direction. We were looking for the volunteers' entrance." You dropped Dean's hand as the two of you approached the group.
"You are going the right way," an older looking nun said.
"Thank you," you said grasping Dean's hand once more when you were out of sight of the nuns.
"Are you ever going to tell me what this is all about? And what that sign was referencing. I still can't figure it out why it sounds so familiar. And speaking of familiar I feel like I've seen that hundred year old nun somewhere before too."
"Dean," you said with a laugh, checking the perimeter for anymore sisters before socking the elder Winchester in the arm for the second time that day.
"What? She was like ancient. Crypt Keeper ancient. At least this one we didn't have to poke with a stick to see if she was alive."
You stopped dead in your tracks, stared open-mouthed at Dean for a moment before rearranging your features into a glare. "Don't you even think about it Winchester," you said appalled wondering where Dean would ever get such an idea.
"Calm down, babe. I wasn't going to poke a nun with a stick. Unless maybe she was sleeping or catatonic or we were on a hunt. We're not are we?" he questioned.
"No. No hunt. Just introducing you to one of my family's Christmas traditions," you said with another mischievous smile.
"That you refuse to tell me," he pouted.
"It's hard to explain," you said screwing your face into a thoughtful grimace before continuing. "It's easier to show you than to tell you."
"Sure it is," he mumbled still trailing behind but ever alert like a loyal guard dog.
You smiled to yourself at the comparison. "You'll see."
"You'll see," he mocked. "You've been saying that since we left the parade. Right now all I'm seeing is a creepy ass long hallway. And a bunch of nuns who look like they are old enough to have seen Jesus when he was around."
"Dean!"
"Well I've got to find something to talk about since you won't tell me anything about this place or the people or where we're going," he grumbled again, lagging behind a bit instead of walking right next to you.
"Hold your horses," you said once more. The two of you zigzagged through the dining area for a few more feet until you came to a large arched doorway. Going through the door, no mistletoe was hanging. Thank goodness. You stopped and scanned the area around you to see if you were in the right place.
You felt Dean's hand stiffened through your clasped hands. You hoped you would remember the correct place soon or the elder Winchester was liable to boil over with unreleased tension. "Time to tell me what's going on," he said. "You've already told me we're not on a hunt of any kind. So what's the deal? Why are we surrounded by a bunch of nuns? You thinking of joining a convent or something? Am I not good enough for you anymore? You'd rather spend your time with a bunch of dusty old nuns than keep going out with me. I'm really that bad?"
You held back the urge to laugh in Dean's face. A Winchester man bad? Maybe in the eyes of the law, but in reality Dean Winchester was all you could ask for in a boyfriend and more.
"Yes, yes right now you are," you threw back at him sarcastically. "You're worse than a two-year-old on a car ride asking 'Are we there yet?'"
"That's because you won't tell me anything!" he reiterated. "And there're nuns everywhere."
You spotted what you were looking for, and ignoring Dean's comments you dragged him over to another huddle of nuns, each engaged in a separate task. One was stirring vegetables, two were counting out and organizing place settings, another was stacking rolls in wicker basket, and still another was looking at a sheet of paper filled with names seemingly tallying them up. You made your way over to her tightening your grip on Dean's hand so as not to lose him in the cluster of nuns. "What are we doing? Are you ever going to tell me?"
"Wait just a little bit longer," you conceded, giving in to Dean's protestations.
"How much longer?" You held your tongue as Dean once again reminded you of a small child.
"Only a few more seconds," you said keeping your eyes on the nun at the table.
"Well I've waited this long. What's a few more seconds," Dean mumbled, and you could sense he was giving up.
"Excuse me," you said walking up to the table.
The nun looked up at you. "Yes?" she asked.
You could feel Dean come up alongside you instead of standing behind like he had been. You smiled to yourself at the protective instinct he was showing. Ever since you had met him, when the older Winchester entered an unknown situation his first instinct was to be protective.
"We're here to volunteer," you stated simply, giving Dean's hand a squeeze at the same time to let him know all was well.
The nun returned her eyes to the sheet of paper in front of her. "Let's see here. We could use some more servers. If you head to the dining room…"
You interrupted just as the nun pointed back the way you had come, "We know the way, Sister."
You politely told the nun your names and watched her scribbled them down on the sheet in front of her before heading back the winding hallway the way you had come.
"What exactly did you sign us up for?" Dean asked his patience seeping out of him like melted cheese oozing from a grilled cheese sandwich.
"You haven't figured it out yet," you said pretending to be taken aback. "But that was the surprise."
"What are we doing here?" Dean asked again.
"We're here to volunteer, of course."
"For what?"
"This is one of my favorite traditions," you said coming to a stop in front of the dining room once more.
All the nuns who had been previously huddled together were now moving between the tables, rearranging place settings, putting down coffee pots and plates of what looked to be homemade baked goods in the center of every table.
"Every year we'd come down here. The whole family all together. That's our secret family tradition, giving back. We'd come here to serve food, play with the kids, anything that was needed. My mom and dad started it when they were first married. They didn't have money to spend on a party or anything, and both their families were spread across multiple states. The first Christmas they were married, they had nothing except each other, so they decided to give what little they had here. It allowed them to spend time with other people and each other. It didn't matter that they weren't related. It was being able to spend Christmas doing something good."
You smiled up at Dean as the two of you watched the nuns putting everything into place.
He stared intently back into your eyes but didn't say a word. When finally able to form words, the first thing you heard was, "This! This is what you've been hiding from me this whole time?!" The sentence was said with such forcefulness you backed away a bit until you felt the frame of the door digging into your back.
"Are you mad?" you asked so upset that your voice came out barely above a whisper.
"Mad?! How could I possibly be mad at you? Especially for something like this? You have no idea how much it means to me that you are so willing to put yourself out there. To share this awesome tradition with me," he said punctuating his sentence with a kiss, using his body to block the nuns' view of the two of you.
You smiled giggling like a middle school preteen who'd just had her first kiss. "Let's get to work then." You gripped his hand loosely as the two of you made your way across the dining room to where the main courses had been set up like a buffet. "We're here to be servers," you said addressing the closest nun.
"Right this way," she said curtly with a "follow me" gesture.
Dean followed, his arm wrapped snuggly around your shoulders, so the two of you were almost intertwined. The two of you walked over to where the nuns had set up the food. Each of you donned a hairnet, apron, and a pair of gloves. You bit your lip so as not to laugh at how absolutely ridiculous Dean looked. He reminded you of a macho lunch lady. Finally, you couldn't take it anymore. You dissolved in a fit of giggles. Taking a deep breath, you managed to stutter out, "You look ridiculous."
Dean struck a pose. "For your information, I think I look awesome. And you, you look beautiful," he said pecking you on the lips.
The nun stationed the two of you at the mashed potatoes and vegetables respectively. You smiled at Dean over the roasters of filled food. You were so excited he wasn't mad at you. The situation could have been so much worse. As it was, you still had one more secret you were withholding. But you would wait until Dean figured the answer out on his own, giving him a chance to reveal it to you rather than giving it to him directly. The final reason you were here remained to be seen.
You watched Dean become absorbed completely into his element as people streamed in grabbing trays and plates for food. He scooped spoonful after spoonful of potatoes onto passing plates and chatted with people who walked by. Making conversation with anyone and everyone, nuns the people who came for the food, Dean was a one-man welcome committee. He radiated happiness like a kid in a candy store. But every once and while he would look over to you and mouth something. You were so distracted in your own duties that you had no time to decipher what he was trying to tell you.
Once the line had calmed down, you were finally able to make your way over to Dean. "What on Earth have you been trying to tell me this whole time? I'm not a lip reader you know," you huffed. You led him to a bank of chairs, and the two of you sat down, exhausted.
A huge smile spread across Dean's face. "I've got it! I finally figured out where I know this place from. I think anyway. I brought Sam here for Christmas dinner years ago when Dad was taking too long on a hunt. We ran out of money, and this was the only place that was open Christmas Eve. We came in here after it had been raining all day. We walked down because Dad had taken the car. The roads were an icy, slushy mess. But there wasn't anything I could do about it. And Sammy needed food. So despite Sammy being sick, we trekked all the way down here. I remember opening that door." He pointed across the room. "And the first thing that hit me was all the amazing smells. Not to mention the sheer amount of food." He gestured to the now mostly empty roasters. "And the pie. Oh my god, the pie. It was the most amazing thing I'd ever tasted. Sammy made fun of me because I think I had about three or four pieces. And I asked to meet the person who had made it. And a girl came over. She couldn't have been any older than me. She was a tiny, little thing. She brought us two take out containers full of food. She told us if those ran out to come back, and she would give us more. She had her hair pulled back from her face and when she came near us she smelled like a mixture of baked apple pie and lavender."
He leaned over and dropped his head to your shoulder before jumping back up like he had been shocked. "Apple pie and lavender." He dropped his head once more this time to rest in your hair. "It was you. The whole time. The reason you brought me here. It was you. That food kept us going until Dad came back. It was the only thing that winter that kept Sammy from getting sicker. You saved his life. Both our lives. How can we ever repay you?" he trailed off attempting to hide the tears that were quickly filling his eyes.
You pulled him into a kiss, not caring who was watching: nuns, patrons, parents. Once the two of you broke apart you told him, "You already have. I'm more myself with you, Sam, and Cass than I've been able to be in a long time. Being with you I've finally been able to reconnect with that little girl. Which is the best Christmas gift you could have given me."
"Best Christmas ever."
"Agreed. Best Christmas ever."
Dean grasped your hand pulling you from the metal folding chair you had been seated on. "Time to head home, don't you think?"
"The bunker sounds nice. And we'd better check on Sam. Looks like we're all finished here anyway." You glanced behind you at the efficient cleaning crew that had begun to clear empty dishes and trash from the tables. "No more servers needed. Let's go."
"We're not going to a bunker. We're going home," he said staring deeply into your eyes to make sure you received his message.
"Home," you repeated before following Dean through the large oaken door out onto the street and into the snowy night.
Dean pulled you close to shield you from the swiftly falling flakes. You breathed in the smell of him sighing. You reveled in the sweet smells of Dean. Those smells that brought you all the peace and comfort Christmas deserved: gun oil, gasoline, and the smells of the meal that clung to him like forgotten memories. As much as you didn't want to move, Dean's hand on your arm and his voice in your ear drug you out of your thoughts and back to the snowy evening.
"There will be pie right?"
The two of you headed back to the Impala, the bunker, and the rest of your family laughing all the way.