The Winchester Winter Workout

Dean turned to the sound of a "shiff" coming from the door. "What's that?"

Sam picked up the envelope that had been pushed under the door. "It's a letter for us." He opened it and started to read it.

"What's it say?"

Sam started reading the letter aloud. The farther he got in the letter, the more amused he sounded.

"Dear Dean and Sam,

We don't wish to alarm you, but we feel the need to warn you: due to the large number of people reading about you this year, requests for Dean and Sam Winchesters have been increasing. Since so many good little girls (and a few boys) have wished for you, we feel you should be aware that Santa will be attempting to secure both of you for this holiday season.

Unless you wish to become a gift, we, the elves, strongly advise you to listen for reindeer hooves, watch for flashes of red suits, and remember that the cookie-smell may mean impending doom. He may also be preceded by the smell of hot apple-cider, as it is his drink of choice on his sleigh. He may not be fast, but he does know when you're sleeping and he's a sneaky old guy.

If you wish to avoid Mr. Clause this year, we suggest keeping a stash of cookies to distract him and perhaps hanging around other celebrities Mr. Clause is likely to try and procure. We suggest finding those "Twilight" guys. They are at the top of many lists this year. The guys of "Glee" are pretty popular as well.

Good luck,

Santa's elves, The North Pole"

Dean laughed. You think Chuck's behind a prank? I didn't think that guy at it in him!"

"I dunno, but that's probably the weirdest letter I've ever read."

Sam set the letter in front of Dean to look at and sat back down at his computer.

~*~

"You hear that," Dean asked quietly, his brow furrowed slightly.

Sam looked up at the ceiling, towards the source of the sounds. "I hear something."

Dean munched on another cookie. Though he wasn't worried, the sound of keeping cookies around didn't seem like a bad idea. Who doesn't want to keep cookies around?

"That doesn't sound like hooves, does it?"

Sam and Dean looked at each other and burst out laughing.

The clopping sounds continued and when there was a large thump on the roof right above them, they looked at each other a little nervously.

"You know, Dean," Sam said in a hurry, "I think I found a job in the next state over. We probably need to go check that out!"

"Right, let's grab our stuff! You can tell me about it on the way."

As the brothers sprinted to the Impala, the smell of cider filled the air, and as Dean looked over his shoulder, he saw a flash of red. With a loud curse, he chucked a cookie behind him.

~*~

"Okay, I am officially creeped out," Sam said, still looking out the back window.

"Dude, this is insanity! Santa Clause is after us? What the hell?"

"Does every legend in the world have some truth to it? Because I'm starting to think that even the good ones have some really crappy downsides."

"I don't know, but if that's really Santa, I'm pretty pissed I never got anything I asked for from him!"

"Dean, you weren't exactly on the good list."

"Well, did you ever get anything you wanted for Christmas?" Dean asked, annoyed a bit at the truth.

"Usually."

Dean did a double take. "Wait, what? I thought you never really got what you wanted for Christmas when we were a kid. You always complained that Dad never got you what you asked for."

Sam smiled a little sadly. "I never asked Dad and Santa for the same thing. When I wrote Santa as a kid, I usually asked him to have a safe year as a family. Once or twice that you'd teach me something cool."

Dean didn't know what to say for a moment. "And?"

"That time you taught me how to throw knives? Right after Christmas. When you showed me that thing that always impressed girls? I think I was seven when you showed me. Still works, though. That's how I got Jess to go out with me."

Dean smiled proudly. "Well, what are big brothers for, if not to show their kid brothers how to impress chicks?"

~*~

Deciding they had probably better lay low until Christmas, Sam and Dean holed up in a motel with bags of cookies and their bags packed by the door, just in case they had to make a break for it.

"Dude, this sucks…"

"No kidding. I did not want to spend the last days before Christmas running away from some fudging fictional character!"

Sam frowned. "You think he actually knows when we're sleeping? Cause that's pretty creepy."

"Thanks, Sammy. Now I'm going to sleep well…"

~*~

It was two days before Christmas and the Winchesters were looking pretty ragged. Every time they found a new place to sleep, they'd had to run almost immediately. They were tired and sore from all the sprinting to the car. They'd long since stopped eating the cookies they'd bought and they were starting to look gaunt from lack of sleep and not enough eating for all the running they'd done.

"That jolly old bastard is faster than he looks," Dean complained.

"No lie. I don't think I'll ever have apple cider again," Sam rubbed his eyes yawning.

"I think the worst part is that I can't eat the cookies," Dean looked five years old his eyes big and watery from the unfairness of it all!

"I think it's time we start tracking down those Twilight or Glee guys. Maybe the elves were right…"

~*~

Somewhere in L.A., Sam and Dean were desperately searching for someone else that would be on Santa's list to hide with, hoping Santa would take them instead, when they spotted the actor that played a certain bleach-blonde, high cheek-boned, leather duster-wearing, British vampire. Surely, he might know how to avoid Santa.

As they approached him, carefully checking over their shoulders for a long white beard, they caught his attention.

Chuckling a bit, he addressed them. "New to fame, boys?"

"Yeah, how'd you guess?" Dean said, straightening up a bit, and suspicious.

"You have that chased down, running from something a little-more-than-crazy look about you. Two days before Christmas and in this town? That can only mean one thing."

Sam's eyebrows hit his forehead in puppy surprise and careful hope.

The talented Mr. Marsters crossed his arms and smiled. "This must be your first year being on multiple wish lists of good little girls all over the world."

"I'm guessing you know what's going on then?"

"Yup, around this time of year, the newly famous always turn up with that desperate, crazed look in their eyes. Listen, you want to avoid that ho, ho, ho-ing kidnapper, you've got to cancel yourself out every year, unless you need the extra workout for all the holiday cookies. Some people go that route so they can eat all the holiday food they want. It's a little risky for my taste."

"Cancel yourself out?" Sam didn't quite follow.

"Yeah, the only way to keep that crazy at bay is to ask for somebody else in your letter. Santa isn't huge on chasing people down, so if you write him a letter asking for somebody else, he stops chasing you. It cancels out, you see?"

Dean looked at him crazy, but then shrugged. "I guess it couldn't hurt. Thanks, man."

Sam thought he saw a flash of red out of the corner of his eyes. "Thanks, but we gotta run. You never saw us!"

"Right, never saw you. Good luck," James called after them, dodging the ginger snap Sam tossed over his shoulder.

~*~

"There. Sent. Who'd you ask for?" Sam asked as he closed out his email account. They'd already sent snail-mail letters, but they figured Santa would get the message sooner by email.

"Megan Fox, of course." Dean asked, dipping his cookie in some milk.

"Figures. I really hope this works. I'd rather be hunting instead of running from some not-so-mythical person."

"I'd rather eat the cookies. I really, really hated throwing cookies. I feel a little evil, myself, doing that."

"What I don't get is why the elves didn't just tell us about the cancelling out thing. I mean, they must know about it if they knew Santa was going to be after us," Sam stared off down the road as they drove away from California.

"You know what? I bet they think he needs the exercise. All those cookies? I bet his cholesterol's through the roof."

"In that case, maybe I'll burn all your letters next year. Keep your cardio in check at least once a year."

Dean frowned looking at the cookie that had almost made it into his open mouth and dropped it. He brushed the crumbs off his hands.

"You know, I really hate you sometimes."

"I love you too, bro."

A/n: Thanks for reading! Happy holidays, everyone! This one was inspired by that brief, blurry screenshot of Jensen in front of a wreath in the season 3 gag reel where he's grinning like a little kid. I made one of those de-motivational posters that said: Happy Holidays, A rare glimpse of the elusive Jensen. His speed is the only thing that saves him from fangirls. And then I thought: what if he's always running from Santa. And the rest is sort of self-explanatory. Yeah, this is the way my mind works. Also, I gotta say James Marsters (Spike) would have made my list a few years in a row, if I actually made that sort of list!

Once again, thanks for the reviews! Enid18: yup, Dean may be a whiney little kid when sick, but I don't think he'll ever be sick enough to let Sam get hurt. Sammy's3494girl, yup… I wanted some squish, and I think Sam would be a great big bro… Dean just never lets him be! Amberdreams: I think Dean can get out of any trap to help Sam. Plus, they're his cuffs, so I can't imagine he wouldn't know a little something about getting out of 'em. Also, the translations are for readers whose first language isn't English. I don't know how much of my readership that accounts for, but I'm thinking there are at least a few judging by the country breakdown of the hits on this story. And I'mma keep checking in for whatever fluffy stuff I gave you ideas for!

Farnathi: Thanks! Aside from the obvious exaggeration, that's what I was going for: something you could see them doing or saying. Thanks for expanding on ideas… keep an eye out for what they turn into! 88ivories: Thanks! Never get tired of hearing I'm awesome! Haha I watch entirely too much tv, I think. I follow a lot of awesome shows. None quite as awesome as Supernatural, though. I can't believe I didn't know about it until a couple months ago! Trust me when I say it ate my brain until I caught all the way up. Actually… it still eats my brain on a daily basis! Hahaha

Like many of you, if I believed in Santa, my letter would read something like this:

"Dear Santa,

Contrary to popular belief, I have been a very good girl this year, as you of course, know. Now, I know it would be a long shot because they're both in great shape, but if you can manage it, I have two ridiculously good-looking guys on my list. The spelling is P-a-d-a-l…" Heeeee.