"And Merry Christmas, Sammy," Dean says to the phone, trying to sound a little less like a telecom company commercial than his brother did. "And pass it to Amelia, will you?"
With Sam's quick assurance that he will, Dean ends the call. He takes in a deep breath, slowly lets it out. So that's done.
"Dad?" a quiet voice says as soon as he pockets the phone. He turns on his heel to find Emma standing in the doorway, holding a big, golden star in her hand. Her hair and face glisten with the glitter that came off the ornament. "Ben and I can't reach the top."
"That's no good." Dean purses his lips and nods his head seriously. "We're gonna have to do something about it."
The corners of Emma's mouth lift in a smile as she turns to lead the way downstairs.
As the approach the kitchen, a hummed melody slips out into the corridor, mixed in with the smells of baking. Dean just can't stop himself.
"Of course," he says, making sure he's heard inside, "that wouldn't be a problem if someone didn't insist on buying the biggest tree they had in the store."
"But have you seen how great it looks?" Lisa calls back, unfazed. She peeks out of the kitchen with a wide grin. The messy bun wobbles on top of her head as she nods toward the living room. "Go check it."
"I don't know," Dean teases, stopping to wipe a smudge of flour off her cheek, "heard it's pretty naked, without the star and all."
Lisa shakes her head and nudges him with her elbow. Behind her back, the pan hisses threateningly.
"I gotta," she blurts and hops back to save their dinner.
"Where's—?"
"Went to a store, said we need more eggnog."
Dean nods and leaves her to her work. When he gets to the living room, at last, Emma's already joined Ben at the side of the tree.
The tree, as far as interior Christmas trees go, is pretty huge: reaches nearly all the way to the ceiling, only leaving some space for the top, and spreads wide, filling up a big chunk of their living room. Just as Lisa ensured, it looks quite amazing: wrapped in colorful chains and a few different strings of light, dressed richly in every surviving ornament they could find in the garage and then some, store bought, handmade, and edible alike.
"Yup, it does look kinda naked," Dean quips, looking up to its empty top, pondering whether he'll need a ladder to reach it or if a chair will suffice.
"Here." Emma holds out the star to him.
But Dean's got a better idea. He gestures for her to turn around and, as she, hesitant, does, he grabs her firmly and lifts her up. A little surprised, she wiggles reflexively to maintain the balance.
"Watch for the legs," Dean warns and holds her tighter for reassurance. "I got you."
"A little higher," instructs Ben, watching their efforts from a more convenient perspective. "Move closer, Dean."
At last, Emma manages to safely slip the star on the top and Dean lets her down.
"That's better. Awesome teamwork!" Dean lifts both palms for high fives.
That's another thing off the Christmas checklist — which apparently is a thing — and it feels like the biggest one yet. In his life, Dean's had proper Christmas with a proper Christmas tree maybe half a dozen times. And half of them were those spent with Lisa and Ben.
And frankly, Dean couldn't have cared less, back then, in the old life, when a dried potted plant dressed in Wunderbaums counted as festive.
Now? Now when everyone he loves is safe and happy, when his own family's here, more complete than it's ever felt, on their first Christmas this big — the giant tree seems like just the best friggin' thing.
"Do you like it, dad?" Emma asks, snapping him out of his reverie.
"Yeah. Yeah, I love it," he admits, ruffling Emma's and Ben's hair. "Great job."
"Last year mom made us make all the decorations ourselves." Ben shrugs. "It was lame."
"Really?" Dean furrows his brow.
His eyes dart to Emma. Her smile's dimmed now, stare fixed on a few green needles scattered on the carpet.
"I kinda liked it," she mutters.
But her tone tells Dean everything, about how the tree with crafted ornaments on it was one of the very few things she kinda liked about her first Christmas. Maybe the only thing. Despite Lisa's best efforts to keep them busy and make the holiday fun for them, for her, especially, in his absence.
It would have been more than half a year by then since he'd gotten stuck in Purgatory. Long enough for them to start moving on, wasn't it? Just like Sam did? But then, there's always something about this time of year, the happy families on TV, long tables filled with smiling faces. Must have made their own table that much emptier.
"I bet it was great," Dean says, pressing a kiss to the top of Emma's head.
Besides, they never did move on. Not really.
"I'm glad you're here, dad."
Dean's lips stretch in a soft smile. His voice he's a little untrusting of. He takes a little time before speaking. Clears his throat too, just to be sure.
"Yeah, I'm glad I'm here too." He winks and pulls Ben in for a group hug. "With all of you."
"Dinner's almost ready," Lisa calls, her voice getting closer with each word. "I need someone to set the tables. And we're just waiting for—" She trails off as she stands in the door not to intrude on a moment.
But she didn't, of course, how could she intrude on anything? Her presence only makes everything more wholesome, her lovely smile turning Dean's insides all mushy and warm.
"Okay, guys," Dean says, pulling away. "Go help with that table."
Ben and Emma leave the room, only to return with piles of plates and cutlery. They set the table for five, singing along to a Christmas song coming from the kitchen radio, now at full volume. Dean helps with carrying the hot dishes, and soon, it's all ready. Well, almost.
Dean glances at his watch. "How long can someone—"
Like on a cue, the door opens, letting in a whiff of cold air.
"Sorry it took me so long," says Benny, clutching a bulgy paper bag to his chest. "The line to the checkout was a mile long. Nautical mile."
Dean rushes to help him with the grocery.
"Good you're back," he says, taking the bag from Benny. "Dinner's ready."