Christmas Redux.
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History repeats itself, they say.
Maybe, but Winchester Christmases surely do, the only difference being the decor of the current motel room.
Sam was stretched out on the bed occupied with an old comic book, dressed much as always in pants and an old tee-shirt of Dean's, his skinny body still exhibiting the child-like characteristics of a year ago, but for the boy everything had changed since then.
He had lost his innocence last Christmas, and the life that was laid out for him by his father's desire for revenge left his young heart heavy with dismay.
He had begun training with John and Dean soon after that revelation, and now he knew how to handle a gun and defend himself, something that he would gladly have done without in exchange for the life his school-mates had.
X
Dean lolled moodily on the couch, silently cursing his father. He had asked John to do his best to be here this Christmas for Sammy's sake and John had assured him that he would, but he knew his Dad.
John meant well, but when it came to his sons or a hunt, Dean had no doubts as to which would win out.
"Dean," Dad would scold. "Saving a life is more important than sitting around on one's ass."
He huffed thinking back on his father's words, as he glanced over at Sam.
His little brother had always been a quiet thoughtful kid, but since he had found out about hunting he had closed in on himself even more.
X
Dean felt the anger building up in his chest. Sam was only ten, for god's sake, how could John not understand that he needed his father to be more present in his life?
He sighed as he pushed himself off the couch. He had to go out for food. They might not have Christmas but they had to eat. Dad had promised to be back today but the road to Hell was paved with good intentions.
"Sammy, you want something special for dinner?" he asked, already knowing what the answer would be.
"Anything'll do Dean. Whatever."
Sam was too smart for his own good. He saw how much money John had pushed into Dean's hand before taking off a few days ago, and the kid knew there could only be a few dollars left.
This year was even worse than the previous, for that Christmas had been redeemed by the gift of amulet.
Dean fingered it as he went towards the door. He loved it and it was so precious because Sam had given it to him; that giving and receiving had united them in an unspoken bond.
It was a symbol of their sharing; their sharing of this frightening life that they were forced to live while other kids had nice homes, families and everything that went with it including Christmases, while they only had each other, an absent Dad and a black Impala. He supposed it would just have to do but how he wished he could have more for Sammy. The kid deserved it!
"Lock the door, Sammy and…" "I know, Dean, don't let anyone in," Sam finished off.
"You got it shrimp," Dean approved.
He turned for a last look at Sam before exiting into the freezing air.
X
Recently Dean had gone through a growth spurt and his shoulders had widened. He looked older than his fourteen years, the promise of the handsome man he would become, ready to be fulfilled.
He pulled his jacket closer. He desperately needed a new one; this was too short, the cold air chilling his lower back confirming that.
As he crossed over the road towards the diner, he heard scuffling noises from a nearby alley. Was that groaning?
He was torn between ignoring it, mindful of the fact that Sam was alone back at the motel, and going in to see what was happening, but as the groans got louder he cursed and dived into the alley.
Three punks were beating up an older man who was already lying on the ground.
X
Dean quickly assessed the situation; the guys were no more than teens, he could take them out easily. He launched himself at the attackers, all the time spent training giving him the advantage, and before long the last one standing ran off, leaving his two side-kicks moaning on the ground.
"You okay, man?" Dean asked as he helped the old guy up and escorted him onto the main street, his expert eyes assessing him for wounds.
"I'm just a little dizzy," he answered weakly. "I wonder if I could sit for a minute."
Dean had no wish to play baby-sitter. The guy looked well enough and he had to be on his way, but for some reason he found himself ushering him to a nearby bench on the side-walk.
"Listen, you got someone to call? Get them to come and pick you up." Dean suggested.
The old guy looked up at him. "You did a very brave thing back there. Those little thugs could have killed me"
"Nah!" Dean replied. "They probably just wanted some extra cash and you look to be a dude who has plenty of that, judging from your clothes."
Dean might dress in second-hand stuff but he recognised expensive clothes when he saw them.
X
The guy looked Dean over, taking in the shabby jacket and jeans he was wearing, but said nothing.
"Will you be okay, dude? I gotta go." Dean repeated, as he wiped away a rivulet of blood that was running down his chin from a cut on his lip.
"I want to thank you properly," the man said. "What would you like? "
Dean was becoming impatient now. He had acted instinctively. He didn't want anything.
"Nothin', man. You needed help and I helped. That's all."
"Many people would have walked on; you didn't and I want to repay my debt to you."
He pulled out his wallet.
X
"Those punks must have seen me at the ATM taking out cash and followed me, pushing me into the alley. If you hadn't come along I would have lost my money and maybe even my life, so it's only fair that you take this."
He held out a wad of cash to Dean who looked at it in awe. There must easily have been two thousand dollars there. However as he made no move to take it, the man reached out and caught hold of Dean's hand, placing the money in it and curling his fingers around the notes.
"You need a new jacket, by the looks of it," he added, "So I would imagine you don't have all that much money to spare. Take it and buy something for yourself and anyone who's dear to you. A brother or sister maybe..."
Dean was about to refuse again when he thought of Sam. With the money he could give him a true Christmas. The little geek loved books and he could buy him a boat-load with this.
The man saw the indecision in the teen's eyes. "It's Christmas," he said. "Let me do this for you and for me!"
Dean studied him as he stood up and saw the sincerity in his eyes. The man really wanted him to take the money.
"It's too much," Dean began.
The man held up his hand. "What's the cost of a life? The money in your hand could never buy one, for life is priceless; so take it and have a Merry Christmas, my child."
He walked quickly away into the blinding snowstorm that had suddenly sprung up out of nowhere.
X
Dean looked at the money in his hand and wondered, but his practical nature took over.
He had gotten a lucky break; a cut lip and some bruises in exchange for two thousand dollars. He could give Sammy a great Christmas now. His heart filled with joy as he made straight for a book store he had noticed along the street.
A couple of hours later he returned to the motel, arms filled with food and gifts, and he felt like Santa himself when he saw the astonishment in his little brother's eyes as he stumbled in. There was a new warm jacket for himself and an identical one for Sam. Nobody was dressing in hand me downs this Christmas.
"Merry Christmas, Sammy!" Dean said as his little brother threw himself into a hug.
Sam hadn't been expecting, nor had he desired anything for Christmas, for the one true thing that was important to him was grasped in the circle of his skinny arms. All the rest was just icing on the cake, but he saw the happiness in Dean's eyes at being able to give him something unexpected, and Sam gave him back the only thing that he had, his thanks and love for his awesome big brother as he opened Dean's gifts.
X
He watched from the shadows. The bothers were special. Their lives were fraught with danger and the hardships would mould them into what they had to become, but for this Christmas at least, they could be normal like all the other kids.
X
The End.