I hope that everyone continues to have a great holiday season! This one is more holiday themed, with no specific prompt. For those of you that submitted prompts, I loved reading them and will be writing them over the next few chapters :) To the readers and followers, thank you so much for doing so. To Guest, Kathy, Fanpire101, kaosdolls3, and BaldiDaughterChevy, thank you so much for reviewing. Again, if you still have happy prompts, send them over!

For this story, Sam and Dean are about 6 and 10, respectively, in the first half, and adults in the second.

Still don't own Supernatural and it's still a bummer.


The Impala came to a halt in one of the snowed over parking spaces outside the motel. Dean didn't even bother looking at the sign to see which one it was, nor did he know what state they were in. All he knew was that it was dark and they had been driving for a while. At the end of the day, it was another few day stop at a no-name motel in the middle of nowhere with snow.

"Stay inside, I'll be back with a room in a few minutes," John instructed, seeing his eldest boy was awake in the back seat. Dean replied with a nod, and looked to Sam, who was leaned up against the door fast asleep.

John tried to open and close his door as gently as he could, but the old beast's metal doors were heavy and squealed, leading to Sam being woken up as soon as it was closed.

"Heya Sammy," Dean greeted, seeing his brother awake and rubbing at his eyes.

"What time is it?" the younger boy mumbled, looking away from the window to Dean.

"No clue, but it's dark and snowing outside if that tells you anything," Dean shrugged, not thinking much of either observation. They had been in the snow plenty of times, it was basically just cold powder.

But the way Sam's eyes lit up at the knowledge changed all that. "Snow?" he asked excitedly, suddenly much more awake. "Can we go play in it, Dean, can we?"

Dean chuckled, but eventually shook his head. "Dad said to stay put, and besides, you don't want to get all your clothes wet."

Sam thought it over for a moment before he nodded, obviously defeated, and looked down to his lap. He wouldn't put up a fight though, because Dean had said so and his reasoning made sense. Still…

"Snow is pretty cool though, if we hang close to the car…" Dean started, smile creeping onto his face in an effort to bring Sam's spirits back up. Dad couldn't tell them to stay inside the car if Sam really wanted to be outside, that just wouldn't work.

Sam was grinning back at Dean and out of the car before he could say anything else. Dean followed suit, his boots crunching in the snow outside. It was still coming down in a slow drift, and a few inches covered the parking lot. Not enough to make a snowman or anything, but it was still there.

"It's cold," Sam laughed, head tilted up to the sky as snowflakes got caught in the hair he refused to let Dean or Dad touch.

"Duh, it's snow, 'supposed to be cold," Dean replied, smirking as similar flakes landed and quickly disappeared onto his hands. He looked over to Sam, whose back was turned to him as he watched the snow fall around some of the lights by the motel manager's office.

That was all it took for Dean to bend down, scoop up some snow, make it into a ball, and lob it over at Sam. It hit him square in the shoulder and exploded into puffy white chunks.

"Hey!" Sam spun around and brushed snow off his jacket. "You said we couldn't play in it."

"Nuh uh. This isn't playing, this is target practice, there's a difference," Dean countered and began to make another ball.

Sam, now grinning, dropped behind the Impala before the next ball could be thrown, so it hit the car instead. While down, he made his own and waited until Dean bent down to throw it. The snowball hit the top of Dean's head, which made Sam laugh out loud.

"I got you!" he announced proudly as Dean dusted the snow from his hair, trying and failing to frown as he did so.

"Oh yeah?!" Dean called back, hitting Sam in the chest with one as Sam got him back in the same spot. "Now I got you!"

They continued like that for another minute or so, and by that time, they were both shivering and covered in powdery white, but the smiles on their faces were all worth it. At least they were until John's booming voice came over them.

"I told you to stay inside," he said, with a shake of his head. He wasn't angry, as he normally was, he just sounded tired. "What are you doing?"

"Target practice," Sam answered immediately, tossing a snowball back and forth between his hands.

"Target practice, hm? Let me see," he gestured for the ball. Sam ducked his head and handed it over before he started making his way back to the car. Dean watched the whole thing unfold, his adrenaline gradually fading down as Sam got his hand on the door handle. That was, until Dean noticed shift in his dad's expression, like the tiredness was lifted for a moment and a rare smirk crosse chis face.

He raised his hand and threw the snowball, which hit Sam in the back, making him spin around, not expecting to see that his dad was the one to have thrown it.

"Five minutes of target practice, then we're going to our room," John lay down the law, which Dean replied to with a snowball expertly aimed at his father's chest.

John broke into a full fledged smile and began to scoop more up, with Sam following suit.

When the five minutes ended, the Winchesters were thoroughly cold and wet, but happier than they had been in a long time while they made their way to the motel room.


Dean first noticed the snow outside when he pulled into the motel lot, but didn't think anything else of it. Sam let him carry both bags, claiming that he had to grab the cooler out of the back seat. For what reason, Dean didn't know, or really care, he was just looking forward to finally getting some sleep.

He carried both bags, switching them to one hand so he could get out the key with the other. As he was turning it into the locked door, something connected with his right shoulder. He quickly opened the door the rest of the way before he looked over his said shoulder at his sasquatch of a brother, standing innocently by the Impala, traces of snow on his fingertips.

"Did you just…?" Dean trailed off, sure he must have missed something. Really, a snowball? Was Sam actually five?

"What? This?" Sam brought out another ball from behind his back and chucked it, where it exploded against Dean's chest. "Just target practice, right?" he asked, eyes light and smile gleaming.

Dean took another look at his brother and rolled his shoulders, depositing the duffel bags inside the room before he closed the door again. "Target practice, huh?" he asked, bending down to get some snow of his own. "Then you'd better start running."

He threw it at Sam, who ducked out of the way just in time with a laugh, and proceeded to the other side of the Impala for cover.

Dean smiled back and shook his head before he bent down to roll up another ball. A hot shower and some sleep could wait a few more minutes. Right now, he had to make sure his little brother knew that he could still throw a snowball with pinpoint accuracy, even in a motel parking lot.