The Impala pulled to a stop in an abandoned parking lot in the middle of town. A dim light shone from the curtained windows of the only open joint in the strip mall. "See," Dean grinned, climbing out of the car, "I told you we'd find a place."
Sammy looked skeptically at the small buffet. "Why'd they still be open?" he asked, slipping his tiny hand into his brother's as they started toward the sidewalk that wrapped around the building, "it's Christmas Eve. They should be with their families."
Dean bit back the retort that immediately bubbled to the surface of his mind. In truth, Sam didn't have the right to judge those people. He'd left Dean alone plenty of times on Christmas, and it had never seemed to bother him.
But he's different now, he told himself, barely even noticing that Sam's hand had slipped from his grasp, he hasn't done any of that yet. He hasn't even dreamed of abandoning you. This year, he actually needs you more than you need him, and-
Dean spun around on the sidewalk, heart pounding, age-old mantra repeating over and over in his head as he realized that he was alone. Protect Sammy.
The hunter was able to breathe a sigh of relief when he saw that he hadn't lost his brother. Sam was standing in front of one of the small, dark shops, staring into the window with sad eyes.
"Whatcha lookin' at, kiddo?" Dean questioned, shoving his shaking hands into his jacket pockets and walking up to stand beside the boy.
Sam shrugged. "Nothing." He spun on his heels and headed toward the buffet as Dean glanced into the store. Marionettes and creepy-looking dolls hung from the ceiling and stood on shelves inside the little shop. Model cars were proudly on display in the back, and Dean noticed with some disdain that there weren't any '67 Impalas in the collection. Bratz and Barbies mingled in a small toy pool just under the front window, and a tiny train chugged its way around a track in the middle of the store.
Of course. All the things he'd never been able to give the kid, at least, not while he was still a kid himself. Dean had wanted to leave the motel rooms plenty of times to pick up something special for Christmas, but had never had the money. And after the shtriga thing… So, he'd holed up in those grimy rooms with his little brother, effectively cheating the younger boy out of a childhood.
"I tried, though," Dean muttered quietly, turning to see Sam waiting for him at the restaurant's door, "I really did." He glanced back into the shop, a brilliant idea hitting him so suddenly that it hurt. "And this year," he grinned, heading toward the buffet, "I'll try harder."
o0o0o0o0o
Dean squinted down at his little brother's plate. It made sense. Sam had always wanted a 'traditional' Christmas dinner. Turkey, mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans, beets, a couple of biscuits, and something that slightly resembled jello were all piled high on the six-year-old's plate. "Looks good," he commented.
Sammy slid into his seat and looked at Dean's plate. He wrinkled his nose. "You got chicken nuggets?"
Dean shook his head. "No way." He took a bite from one of the nuggets and held it out for Sam to see.
"Eww!" the boy recoiled, "they deep-friend macaroni?"
"'S good," the elder mumbled through a mouthful of breading, cheese, and noodles, "better 'n' the crud I usually make."
Sammy looked at his plate, pushing a tiny piece of turkey around with his fork. "Your sandwiches are ok."
"Sam, do you even know where dad finds the turkey for those holiday dinners of ours? It's in the back of the grocery store, nestled between the hotdogs and the bologna."
Sammy shrugged. "You tried."
The older man shuddered at the familiarity of the words. "Hey," he said softly, "don't lie, all right? I can take the truth. Besides, lying doesn't become you."
Sammy smiled sheepishly. "Ok, so the were kinda lame," he admitted, "but it's not like dad made things easy."
Dean nodded slowly, turning back to his macaroni only to find that he'd lost his appetite. He instead turned his attention to the restaurant, which was empty, save the two Winchesters. It was done up in a dark red, gold, and green theme (very Christmas-y). Chairs were stacked atop tables and the only employee sat in a back corner, watching the brothers eat and waiting to close up.
"You haven't talked about it," Sammy said, rousing Dean from his mental critique of the restaurant.
"Talked about what?"
"Me. What happened. It's been almost a whole day and you haven't even tried to figure out what happened to me. Don't you care that I'm not a grown-up anymore?"
The hunter sighed. He'd had a feeling this conversation would be coming, and he still wasn't ready for it. Truth was, he had no idea why this had happened to his brother, no idea what could have done it. There was no paranormal activity in the area, and the last job the brother's had worked hadn't exactly screamed 'if you piss me off, I'm gonna curse your handsome ass!'
"Honestly," Dean began, a small smile playing a this lips, "you're easier to deal with as a kid. I can ground you if I want." Sam just stared blankly back at him. "I have thought about it, kiddo, and I do care, all right? But there are no red flags in town, and last week…" he trailed off, catching himself before he slipped. The week before, he and Sam had been hunting a lone shifter just south of Vancouver, but he couldn't tell the kid that. "Last week I went up against a skin walker northwest of here. That pretty much rules out witches and curses."
"But it's not normal. Something had to have done this. It's gotta be supernatural."
"I didn't say it wasn't, Sam. I just don't know what it could have been right now, that's all."
"Shouldn't you start researching or something? That's what dad always does first."
Dean nodded. "Yeah, it is, but I figure this can wait until after Christmas. Everyone else gets a break, so why not us? We'll start looking for help or something after the twenty-sixth, and we can leave town just as soon as the roads clear up and the weather decides to start making nice with holiday travelers. Besides, it might be a weak enough spell or whatever that it just wears off on its own. So, sound good? We got a plan?"
Sammy nodded slowly, turning back to his food. "I guess."
Dean smiled, watching his brother eat, as he began to plan. As much as he absolutely hated the thought of leaving a six-year-old Sam alone in a motel room in the middle of the night, he had to do it. The kid deserved to have at least one semi-normal Christmas in his life.
o0o0o0o0o
"I'm sorry." The statement came so suddenly from the silence that, had he not been busy driving back to the motel, Dean probably would have jumped right out of his shoes.
"What?" he asked, glancing at Sam.
"I said I'm sorry," the little boy muttered, "I ruined your Christmas."
Dean sighed and pulled the car into an empty parking lot. He had a feeling that this would require his full attention. "You didn't ruin my Christmas. Why would you think that?"
Sammy shrugged. "I dunno. I mean, it had to be me. You wouldn't 'a' done this to me."
"What're you talking about, kiddo?" Dean asked softly, turning to the boy, "and try to go slow, OK? I'm not the quickest study, and it might take some time to catch on."
A shadow of a smile touched the boy's face. "I didn't think it was true," he whispered, eyes shining, "I thought Jimmy was tricking me to get back for when I beat him in that race in gym class."
"What did Jimmy tell you? Because, you know, Sam, Santa's real, no matter what some stupid boy from school says."
"That's not it. I know Santa's fake. If he was real, he would bring us stuff every year. It's not about Santa."
"What, then?"
"He said it was an old family legend. Said his grandpa had told him. I just laughed, but now… now it makes sense. I know why I'm not a grown-up anymore."
Dean leaned a little closer. "Why, Sam?"
"It's not a curse," Sammy said quietly, the tears shining behind his eyes finally beginning to fall, "or a spell. It was a wish, and I made it."
The older man sighed. How anti-climactic. No ghost to bust, no witch to hunt, just a school-boy's story about wishes.
I just wish I could give that kid the Christmas he wants. Suddenly, it wasn't so anti-climactic anymore.
"What's the legend, Sammy? Do you remember?"
Sam nodded, wiping his eyes. "He said… Jimmy told me that if you're a good person and you make a wish on Christmas Eve, it'll come true. That's what his grandpa said, anyway."
Dean leaned back in his seat, rubbing a hand warily over his face. What time had he thought that? When had he made that wish? It had to have been late, because he'd taken his brother's gift to the Kinko's around eleven. He couldn't have gotten it back to the room from getting it bound until five 'til twelve, meaning he'd gone to bed after midnight. It had, officially, been Christmas Eve. Shit.
"I must have made a wish," Sam explained, "when I was a grown-up, because the last thing I remember, you were ten and tucking me in and it was 1989. I didn't wish to mess up your Christmas then, so it must 'a' been now. I'm sorry, Dean."
The elder man heaved a sigh and pulled the boy into his arms, creating an awkward and shaky hug. "Listen to me, kid. This isn't your fault. Don't ask me how I know, I just do. And you didn't ruin my holiday. You don't have to be sorry. You didn't do anything."
Sammy shook his head. "Of course I did. How can you not be mad?"
Dean rested his chin on the boy's head, breathing in the scent of the motel's shampoo. "You're my brother. I could never be mad at you. Besides, it's Christmas. We'll fix this, Sammy, I promise. We'll just take a little time off to think first."
Sam sighed. "If we knew what I wished for, it wouldn't be a problem. Granting it should break the spell or whatever, and I'll grow up again."
"Makes sense," Dean nodded. There was no doubt about it anymore. He was going to have to leave Sammy alone that night, if only to fix his own stupid mistake.