Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters or plotlines. They belong to the CW.
Author's Note: This story was not betaed. This will most likely be a one-shot. However, I might make a series of one-shots depending on my writer's block. This is actually the first fic that I have written in a couple of years. Please review and let me know what you think. I love it when people let me know how I can improve my writing. I hope you will enjoy it.
It was a Christmas to remember. Certainly, it was not a Hallmark Christmas. The stockings were not hung on the chimney, the turkey wasn't roasting in the oven, and brightly wrapped packages were not lying underneath a highly decorated evergreen. Instead, the old motel room was covered in cheap paper signs, listlessly spelling out the words "Merry Christmas" although the mood in the room was not very festive at the moment. Sam looked over from his position in the hard plastic motel chair to view his brother sleeping. Dean was passed out in a drunken slumber, lying haphazardly on the bed, still fully clothed, and oddly enough clutching his new bottle of motor oil, as though it was his favorite new toy. He seemed so peaceful, so at ease, as though nothing could possibly be bothering him. A person looking at him would not think that his life was a ticking clock, and each moment he was losing some time never to be returned to him in his desperately shortened lifespan.
Sam let out a slow and heart wrenching sigh. He wouldn't cry, he wouldn't. Christmas was supposed to be a happy time, although he couldn't remember many Christmas' in his childhood when he was truly happy. College was probably the first time that he actually experienced what a real Christmas was. He finally experienced the sort of Christmas that he that he had only seen on TV as a child. Jess had invited him to spend Christmas with her family. For the first time in his life, he did have a Christmas that had a huge tree, a turkey dinner with all of the fixings, carols sung, presents passed out, and a night sitting around the fireplace while relaxing with eggnog. But it wasn't his Christmas. It wasn't his family. Though Jess' family had welcomed him with open arms and treated him like he was part of their family, he still felt like he was an outsider, an intruder, a fraud. This wasn't his family, and no matter how much he wished that he could pretend that it was, if only for a moment, it wasn't his. Sam shook his head slowly, Jess' murder still upset him no matter how much he tried not to think about it.
His eye's glanced downward and looked at the presents that Dean had gotten him. A couple of skin magazines and a bottle of shaving cream. He was sure that Dean didn't remember, but this was the same brand that Sam used the first time he had ever shaved. Correction, the first time that Dean had taught Sam to shave. Sam's fist suddenly slammed onto the table with barely suppressed rage. Glancing quickly over to the beds, he noticed that Dean still lay asleep undisturbed. It wasn't fair. Sam was no idiot. He knew first hand that life wasn't fair, but still it just wasn't fair. How many more people did he have to lose in his life? How much longer would he be punished? Dean. Dean was quintessentially his surrogate father. He'd never tell Dean that, but that was how he sometimes felt. Dean had been there to cook for him, drive him to school and his friend's house, and check to make sure he had done his homework. Dean was always the first one to tell Sam off if he put his life in danger, but he was also the first one there when Sam needed him. Whether he was hurt or in pain, Dean was always there for him. As much as it shamed him to admit it, Dean had been more of a father to Sam than John Winchester himself had ever been.
He couldn't lose Dean. He wouldn't lose Dean. He would find a way to fix this. For now though, Sam wouldn't let his morbid thoughts take over. Dean was right. This was Christmas, and Sam was with his family. Slowly standing up, Sam took the time to stretch and gave a satisfying sigh. He leaned down and picked up one of the bags that he had hidden underneath his chair. Careful to not make any sound, he slowly took out a red stocking that he had bought for Dean. Inside the stocking lay a shiny baton that was made with glitter. Grabbing a piece of the motel's paper, he quickly scribbled, "To Dean from Santa". With a smirk, Sam placed the stocking on Dean's bed, careful not to wake him. That finished, he slowly made his way to his own bed. When he finally was underneath the covers of his bed, Sam allowed himself to smile. After all, it was still Christmas. There would be time to worry about the upcoming months later, for now he just wanted to see his brother's reaction to his present come Christmas morning.