This is an unoffical entry into the Unscripted Genius 12/25/08 Challenge.
I hope you guys enjoy it!
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A Child's Gift
Broken Bow, Nebraska
Christmas Morning, 1991
How could an eight-year old boy be expected to sleep peacefully after finding out his family hunted things that went bump in the night? Instead of visions of sugarplums dancing in his head, Sam Winchester was instead bombarded with things like ghosts and monsters. Scary things a child had no reason to think about—ever. It was supposed to be the thing that nightmares were made out of, not reality.
That's why when Dean turned on the tableside lamp and shook him awake, Sam was secretly glad. Anything to get away from what his mind had to offer. "Sam, wake up. Dad was here." His big brother nodded to the tree that would make Charlie Brown proud. "Look what he brought."
Sam let out a yawn, intent on playing his part, not wanting to let Dean know that his revelation had bothered him. "Dad was here?"
"Yeah—look at this. We made a killing."
The young boy didn't believe for an instant that his father had been here but he would play along with that little charade as well. He could see that Dean was trying. That's what Dean always did—he tried and most times, he succeeded. "Why didn't he try to wake me up?"
"He tried to…like a thousand times."
You gotta sell it a little better to me, big brother. "He did?"
Dean grinned. "Yeah. Did I tell you he would give us Christmas or what?" Dean's smile became slightly bigger as Sam looked towards the small tree. "Go on—dive in."
Holding onto the glimmer of hope that he was wrong about his father and that he really did bring them Christmas, Sam threw back the covers and hopped out of bed. Grabbing the two presents under the tree, the boy bounded to the small couch and sat down. Dean made his way over and lounged back as Sam tore into the bigger of the two presents.
"What is it?" Dean asked eagerly.
Sam held up the pink package in confusion. "Sapphire Barbie?"
Dean chuckled. "Dad probably thinks you're a girl."
Sam threw it down to the floor. It's not like I haven't heard the girl comment before. Dean only calls me Samantha on a daily basis… "Shut up."
Dean's smile was big as he nodded towards the other gift. "Open that one."
Sam tore the packaging off, revealing a baton with multi-colored streamers coming out of either end. I was right about Dad…just another lie to add to the pile. "Dad never showed, did he?"
"Yeah, he did. I swear," Dean said, a defensive tone to his voice.
"Dean, where did you get all this stuff?"
Sam was worried that his brother wasn't going to answer him. He could see the disappointment written clearly on Dean's face. "Nice house up the block."
The younger Winchester rolled his eyes.
"I swear I didn't know they were chick presents," Dean replied. Seeing Sam's frown he added, "Look, I'm sure Dad would have been here if he could."
Sam scoffed at that. "If he's alive."
"Don't say that. Of course he's alive. He's Dad."
Sam nodded, really wanting to believe Dean. He wanted to believe that their dad was still out there—actually, he wanted to believe his father was right outside the door, about to come in and surprise them with Christmas. But Sam couldn't do that—right now, he just didn't trust anything John Winchester might do or say.
Thinking to his gift he'd intended to give to his dad, Sam suddenly had another idea. Why not give it to the one person who'd always been there for him. After all, Uncle Bobby said it was really special. Didn't someone as equally special deserve it?
Reaching for his jacket that was draped on the arm of the sofa, Sam reached into the pocket and pulled out the comic-strip wrapped present. Holding it out to Dean, he said, "Here. Take this."
Dean shook his head. "No. No, it's for Dad."
"Dad lied to me. I want you to have it," Sam replied earnestly.
His brother stared at it for a long moment before looking up at Sam. "You sure?"
Sam nodded, happy with his decision. "I'm sure."
Dean took it from his small hand and Sam watched as his sibling carefully opened the package, not really surprised by the gesture. Dean always was gentle when it came to things concerning Sam. Dean picked up the golden amulet that was attached to the leather cord, holding it in his hand to admire it.
"Thank you, Sam. I—I love it." Without wasting anymore time, Dean put it around his neck, looking down at the talisman that now rested on his chest.
Sam could only nod, knowing it was truly where it belonged.
Middlesboro, Kentucky
Christmas Day, 1995
The steady beep of the heart monitor was the first sound twelve-year old Sam Winchester became aware of as he slowly opened his eyes. Blinking against the harsh ray of sunlight filtering into the room, the boy glanced around the sterile white room in confusion, trying to figure out how he'd landed himself in the hospital.
Definitely not where he wanted to spend his Christmas.
Not that he'd ever had a normal Christmas before but there was something about spending it in a hospital bed that made it a little worse for Sam. At least in some low-budget motel room, it felt a little like home—they could personalize it a bit. But in here? In here it was cold and harsh—no way could you bring something in to cheer the atmosphere up.
Feeling something clutched in his hand, Sam slowly opened it and looked through bleary eyes at the item that was there. Frowning, he brought it up to his face and was shocked to see the amulet he'd given Dean four years ago.
But wait…Dean never takes this thing off. If he has it off, does that mean…
"Dean!" Sam yelled, bolting upright as his eyes popped open wide, searching the room. At the same time a blinding pain shot up his right leg as his head pounded in his ears.
"Hey, kiddo, calm down, okay? I'm right here." Hands clutched Sam's shoulder as he was gently pushed back down on the bed.
Sam shook his head, closing his eyes tight, not wanting to believe what he was hearing. Dean can't be here. I have his amulet! "No…it's not you, Dean. I'm dreaming…"
"Dude, if I'm the one in your dreams then I seriously need to start filling that big geek brain of yours with some more trash," Dean snarked. "Show you what dreams really should be about."
Sam still didn't open his eyes. He had to be dreaming! He just had to be!
"Come on, Sammy. Open your eyes for me, little brother," Dean ordered, but there was nothing harsh about the tone of his voice. Not like there was when their dad gave them an order.
Sam slowly opened his eyes to see his brother staring down at him, something akin to fear in his green eyes. "Dean?"
"Who else would it be?"
The adolescent opened his hand to reveal the trinket to Dean. "But I have your amulet. You never take this thing off. I just assumed—"
The older Winchester grinned. "You know what they say about assuming, Sammy."
Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you make an ass out of you and me."
"You got it." Dean turned serious as he took the seat next to Sam. "Seriously, dude. You've been unconscious for the last twelve hours."
"What happened?"
Dean averted his gaze, refusing to say anything.
"Dean?"
The sixteen-year old let out a sigh. "We were at the Miller's place. I thought I could handle the ghost there and you wanted to tag along. I told you to stay in the car while I took care of it but of course, you wouldn't listen to me."
Sam nodded as the events of the previous night came to him. "I couldn't let you go in there by yourself, Dean. What if something happened to you?"
"That's funny," Dean said sardonically as he pointedly glanced at Sam's injured leg. "Anyway, I was heading up to the attic when I heard you yelling. By the time I got back downstairs, I saw that bitch ghost toss you into the air and into a china cabinet. Before I could even get to you, it fell on your leg—you were knocked out so there was no way you could have moved in time."
"That would explain my headache," Sam muttered.
Dean flashed a half-smile. "How many times to I have to tell you that your head isn't as hard as mine?"
Sam snorted. "That's a relief."
"Bite me."
"So…did you get rid of her?"
Dean shook his head. "She can wait. All I wanted to do was get you out of there as fast as I could."
"Sorry," Sam said with a shrug.
"Don't worry about it," Dean said. "Nothing we can do now."
Sam started playing with a stray thread coming out of the blue blanket nestled around him. "Did you call Dad?"
Dean looked away but not before Sam caught the brief look of disappointment in his brother's eyes. "I only got his voicemail. He'll call as soon as he gets the chance."
The younger boy nodded. "You still haven't explained why I have your amulet, Dean."
"Do we really have to do this?"
Sam said nothing as he fixed Dean with a stern look.
"Fine." Dean bothered his bottom lip before sighing resignedly. "Like I said, you were out for the past twelve hours. You wouldn't respond for the doctors and nothing I said could get you to wake up, so…"
"So, what?"
"I thought it would give you the strength like it's been giving me for the last four years," Dean replied quietly. "I guess it worked."
Sam grinned, warmth and gratitude washing over him like a wave. "I guess it did."
"So, is our little chick-flick moment over or what?"
"For now," Sam answered, still grinning. Then he sobered up. "Sorry I ruined your Christmas."
Dean shook his head. "Dude, if anything this has made our Christmas more exciting. At least it will be one you'll always remember."
Sam rolled his eyes. "Christmas is supposed to be filled with good memories, Dean."
"Says who?"
"Here," Sam said as he pressed the amulet into Dean's hand. "Put it back where it belongs."
"Are you sure you don't wanna hold onto it for a little longer?" Dean asked. "You can if you want to, you know."
"Nah, I'm okay."
Sam watched with a wistful smile as Dean carefully put the golden trinket around his neck, allowing it to settle against his chest. Sam was appreciative that Dean cared enough to let him use it but if truth be told, Sam didn't need it.
He had all the strength he needed as long as his big brother was by his side.
Pontiac, Illinois
May 3, 2008
There was no other worse feeling in the world for the twenty-five year old.
Sam remembered telling Dean about a year ago while he'd been possessed that there was nothing worse than Hell, but he was wrong. While Dean was currently residing in the literal place, Sam was living in his own perdition—he was living without Dean. It was worse than any form of torture you could inflict on a person. It was worse than any pain a demon could cause you.
It was living without his big brother.
Nothing had prepared the youngest Winchester for this. Sure, Dean had given him pointers about how to maintain the Impala and life lessons he thought was important to impart on him. But where was the field guide for living without your constant companion—the one person who'd always been there for you?
Point him to that location. Not to the field where he'd just had to bury his own flesh and blood. Not to the bathroom where he'd spent the last hour or so trying to wash away the dirt and the blood. Not to the bottle of Jack he was making record time in chugging down.
None of that mattered.
There was no room for any of that. Instead, Sam was dealing with the cacophony of voices in his head asking him what he had done wrong. Why couldn't he have worked harder? Why couldn't he have done more?
"It will all be better when you wake up…you'll see. I promise."
Dean's words of encouragement came rushing back from all those Christmases ago, when he'd told Sam all about the things that went bump in the night—how their family fought them. Too bad Dean didn't know then that they would come back for the Winchesters, time after time, until all of them were gone.
"I mean, I can't just sit around, drinking eggnog, pretending everything's okay when I know next Christmas you'll be dead. I just can't."
It was amazing how those little words could come back to haunt Sam now. There would be no Christmas this year—or ever again. There was no such thing if Dean wasn't around. He was the one who always made the day special. Even after revealing the family secret, Dean still made it the best Christmas he could—albeit jacking some chick's presents to make it happen. Still it was the thought and his older brother always put thought into everything he did.
Even that Christmas when they had to sleep in the Impala because they couldn't afford to get a motel room for the night, Dean still made it special. He'd found a small pine sapling and turned it into one of the most impressive Christmas trees Sam had ever seen. He'd even gotten Sam a gift—a used copy of Moby Dick from a local thrift store and it was something the younger man had always cherished. He'd even brought it with him to Stanford and it rested on a bookshelf above his desk until the fire took it away from him.
But there wouldn't be anything like that this year. There would only be pain and misery and loneliness. Sam just didn't know if he could handle it.
Sighing, he reclined in the wooden chair he was occupying, frowning when something jagged began to poke his leg. Putting down the bottle of liquor, he reached into his pocket, pulling out Dean's amulet.
"I forgot that I had that there," he murmured, slightly startled to hear his own voice.
He held it up so he could glance closer at it, the sun's rays hitting it, causing the trinket to glow. Smiling slightly, Sam felt something akin to warmth washing over him. Maybe it was the sun's rays or his body playing tricks with him, but it didn't matter.
It was Dean.
And while he couldn't actually have his big brother in his grasp, he at least had something he could hold on to—a tether he could use to keep himself grounded. Putting it around his neck, Sam let it rest there, feeling even more warmth making its way throughout his body.
Sure, he had the Impala and while Dean acted like that was his most prized possession, Sam knew better. Dean could manage to part with the old classic on a daily basis, but never this. Never a small little trinket that probably looked like a piece of junk to any other person.
Never a child's gift.