Set when Sam is seven and Dean is eleven. This is dedicated to my pain in the ass little brother who had birthday yesterday! He used to do this to me, and I could just image Sam doing the same to Dean. Happy Birthday Bro!
Summary: Most children write to Santa about their wishes, or ask for a favour. Sam is writing a letter to Santa too, but the content surprises Dean a lot. Wee!Chester.
Warning: Two small brothers at Christmas time, what do you think? … None, just a bit of fluff.
Disclaimer: Don't own more than the idea.
Dear Santa
"Deeeaann?" Sam called from the table. He was sitting with a pen in his hand and a paper in front of him.
"What Sam!?" Dean was getting irritated; Sam had asked him about several words he wanted to know how you spelled, and it was really getting on his nerves. "What is it this time?!"
Sam looked up at him with wide, surprised eyes. Though what made Dean talk a lot softer this time was the touch of hurt and fear in Sam too.
"Sorry, what is it Sammy?"
Sam relaxed again, and looked like he had forgotten it all. "How do you spell 'awesome'?"
Sam had the brain, Dean knew that, his baby brother was a smart kid, but he was only seven years old, so spelling, especially long and or hard words was a big problem for him, so Dean patiently had to tell him how to spell every second word he wrote.
"A-w-e-s-o-m-e," Dean said resignedly, but he cheered up a bit as Sam happy thanked him.
"Thanks Dean!" The smiled covered all of Sam's face, Dean thought, as his baby brother gave a bright smile.
"Who are you writing to anyway?" He had asked the question a couple of times, but Sam had kept it a secret. Dean knew it had something to with Christmas though, otherwise Sam wouldn't have asked him to spell to snowflakes and toboggan.
"No one," Sam kept his eyes cast on the paper as he eagerly wrote. He stopped and looked like he thought about something, then looked at Dean with his big, hazel puppy-dog eyes.
"Dean? One last word, please!" Sam begged as he shrugged nervously on his seat.
"What?" Dean asked with a neutral grimace, not irritated but not happy either.
"How do you spell 'North Pole'?" Ah, he's writing to Santa Claus. It was obvious now.
"N-o-r-t-h, interval P-o-l-e, and the first is capital letter in both," Dean corrected as Sam wrote it down.
"There, I'm done," Sam said and looked at the paper satisfied.
"Can I see it?" Dean had been cross about the letter and spelling, but he was damn curios.
Sam looked like he considered it, but he sadly shook his head. "No Dean, it's not to you," he answered low.
He ran into their room and apparently hid the letter, because he returned fast after without anything. He sat next to Dean and watched the movie Dean had tried to watch for the past hour as Sam had written.
He didn't ask Sam about the letter, not while they watched TV, not while making dinner – dad was out hunting so Dean had to make it – and not while eating.
But after he had gotten Sam in the pyjamas and made him sit in front of the TV, he had gone back to their room to change into own his night clothes. There was nothing like watching a Christmas movie, with Sam – not that he would tell him! And then being able to go straight into a nice warm bed.
As he got his clothes out of the dresser their dad had fervently told them to put them in so they seemed normal, a little envelope fell out and landed on the floor.
He pulled his T-shirt over his head so it, by itself, had to slide down his slender, yet already brawny body, and quickly put his loose pyjamas trousers on before he grabbed the envelope.
On the front it said with big letters: 'To Santa Claus' 'North Pole'. So Sam has put it here until he gets the change to send it! He thought.
Dean didn't want to read it, Sam had told him not too, but as he saw Sam hadn't closed it completely, he couldn't resist. So he sat down on the bed and pulled out the letter.
He looked down at the paper with big, skewed words on it, and without hesitating he started to read.
Dear Santa
You probably don't know me, but my name is Sam. My dad moves all the time, so you don't have a chance to find me or my big brother, but I want to tell you that it is okay, because I have got Dean here. He's my brother and he takes good care of me, and even without presents I have got one in him.
Dean looked up; Sam really thought this about him?
He takes care of me when dad is not here, which is a lot. He makes me Scabetti O's, he helps me writing, like right now, he fights the bullies for me, and he chases the monsters under the bed away, and all even when he doesn't want to!
Sam was right, nobody hurts Sammy without getting a blue eyes or a missing tooth.
So I won't ask for snowflakes to fall, or for the world to be a better place.
Well Sammy, I have to slightly disagree with you here, the world sure as hell need to get better.
Because if the snow falls, Dean would take me out to have a snowball fight, or to ride a toboggan, and if it will not snow, we'll just stay inside and enjoy ourselves.
And there are children in the world who needs you more than me, I just whished you could do something for Dean, because of how awesome he is, that's all I will ever ask you about.
Merry Christmas!
Sam
Dean had thought Sam would have written something like "I want an action man or new clothes, t whatever…" But he had written an it-is-okay letter, and furthermore praised Dean to the skies.
And it didn't even sound like a kid, this sounded like a mother writing a letter to God, telling him it was okay he took her baby, because she knows the baby is in good hands. Okay, maybe not that drastic, but anyway… It was not childlike this, not at all.
That fact scared Dean a bit, he tried to protect his brother from everything, meanwhile his brother was facing the world every day, and Dean couldn't stop the talking in the school, or the newspaper or TV.
So of course Sam wanted Santa to be real, the kids from his school would probably talk about what they'd got or how the cookies and milk where gone by morning. And Sam had never had a change to experience those things. Dean had, one time where he could remember it, and he felt bad about not being able to show Sam.
"Dean, what're you doing?" Sam called form the other room, and Dean jumped by the voice.
He quickly put the letter back in the envelope and laid it back to where he had found it, sighed to get himself straight and walked back to Sam.
"Sorry, just… Got caught in something," he said and smiled his best cover smile. Sam just smiled back and nodded.
"Okay Dean," Dean sat down beside him and looked at the screen, it was A Christmas Carol, the old vision; the one Sam liked so much.
"See you can't help it, huh? It's like the hundreds time we see this," Dean teased but put his arm around Sam. Sam just let Dean do it, and as Dean's warm and comfort felt like a protecting shield, Sam just tugged himself against him and relaxed.
When the movie ended, Sam had fallen asleep with his head on Dean shoulder, Dean was sitting satisfied with the fact of how much his brother really cared for him, and in the morning Dean would tell Sam the same, but right now he just had to figure out how he got his brother into bed.
And outside? … Outside a big, white carpet was covering the earth, as the snow was beginning to fall.