This takes place towards the end of Season 6, between episodes 21 and 22. I've edited the timeline, shifting the whole thing so we're around Christmas.
On December 15th, Dean sent a text message from the Impala.
The offer for Christmas still open?
Barely a minute later, the phone dinged, the chime soft and barely audible over the rumble of the engine and the sound of wheels on pavement.
Of course. In Malibu; when will you get here?
Dean looked at the road sign that flashed by him a moment later and shoved his sleeping brother's hand off the map, considering routes. Sam didn't wake up but reclaimed the stray appendage, tucking it close to his chest.
Tomorrow night. Got a surprise present for you. Bringing someone.
He could almost hear Tony smirking in the distance.
Girlfriend?
Dean rolled his eyes.
See you tomorrow, Tony.
He took the next exit and drove into the night.
The exterior of Tony Stark's new Malibu home was not dramatically different than the original home that had sat there before the Mandarin incident. It was still white, with sleek lines and large windows, but the additional fortification was evident if one knew where to look. The Impala roared up the long driveway to the house, the silhouette of the building growing larger and glowing faintly in the early moonlight.
"Wow." Sam looked up at it. "I like it."
"It's still plenty fancy, that's for sure," Dean grunted, guiding the car to the front door and cutting the engine off. "I get to go first, don't forget."
Sam rolled his eyes but didn't comment. The older brother climbed out of the car and popped the trunk, grabbing his bag before walking to the front door to ring the doorbell. There was a moment of silence before the sound of feet approached and an electronic beep signaled the unlocking of the door. It swung open to reveal Tony, wearing one of his Black Sabbath t-shirts and a pair of jeans, looking like an excited puppy. "Dean!" He shook Dean's hand before backing up and trying to look over Dean's shoulder. "Where's this guest? And where's my gift?"
"They're the same thing, actually." Dean stepped into the house and sideways, letting Sam move forwards into the light of the door.
"Merry Christmas, Tony. Surprise." Sam smiled, but Dean could see the little bit of fear and worry that was always present in his eyes.
"Sam? How…?" Tony shook his head questioningly and then burst forward, bundling Sam into a hug as best he could with Sam's bigger frame. He pulled back, wonder on his face, and reached up and out to cradle Sam's face in a very un-Stark display of awe. "How… we thought you were dead! Pepper!" he called, voice slightly hoarse and verging on anger, before pointing at Dean and Sam accusingly, finger hovering between the two of them. "You don't get to do that to us!"
Dean intervened. "Let us get inside and we'll explain."
However, that was delayed by the arrival of Pepper, who began crying when she saw Sam in the doorway. Finally, fifteen minutes later, all four were sitting on the couch and Sam started to talk. "I was dead, but not for very long. Sort of. Castiel raised my body from the Cage and I was alive for almost a year before Dean found out. I would have told him, but-" he cut himself off. "Anyway a few weeks after that-"
"-Bobby and I realized that he was acting oddly. We talked to Castiel, who did some tests." Dean took over. "We figured out that Sam didn't have a soul."
Pepper gasped. Tony looked sick, all of his anger vanishing. "What does that mean exactly?" the genius asked.
"My body was here. But my soul had been in the Cage all that time. Dean worked out a bargain with Death - not that kind of deal-" he reassured Tony, who looked worried. "-and Death brought my soul back to my body."
"So do you remember…" Pepper trailed off, not sure if she wanted to ask.
"The Cage?" Sam shook his head. "Death put up a wall. So I don't remember any of it. I don't remember anything else from the last year and a half either."
"And we aren't going to talk about it because the wall isn't the best construction job," Dean closed firmly. "We're here because Tony invited us for Christmas. So here we are."
"Right," Tony agreed. "Can we at least tell the other Avengers that Sam is alive? They're planning on coming over at some point during the next two weeks so they should probably get a heads up. And I think at least Steve and maybe his friend Sam were going to be here for actual Christmas Day."
Sam and Dean held a silent conversation; they didn't want the situation of Sam and his soul to become common knowledge… but if they couldn't trust the Avengers, who could they trust? Dean nodded at Tony. "Sure, but nobody else."
"Understood," Tony agreed. "I'll call them later. Secure channels only."
"A phone call for you, Miss Potts." Jarvis cut into the conversation.
"Be back in a moment," Pepper said, and left to take the call, all three men watching her go.
"When are you going to ask her to marry you, Stark?" Dean asked teasingly.
But to his surprise, Tony just smirked. "Sooner than you think."
Sam and Dean both leaned forwards. "Are you kidding!? Congrats, man!" Sam shook Tony's hand. The billionaire just laughed.
"Don't congratulate me until she says yes. And keep it down for now; wouldn't want to ruin the surprise."
Dean rolled his eyes. "Please, keeping secrets is part of our job."
Pepper's heels started to tap back towards the room and Tony hastily changed the subject. "So what do you guys want to do for Christmas?"
There was a hasty exchange of glances, but to Dean's regret Sam looked just as lost as he was.
"Ummm… we don't really have plans, so… whatever?" Sam said, looking optimistically hopeful that Tony wouldn't push. The genius sent him a look that said he knew exactly what Sam was doing.
"Uh huh. So no Christmas traditions? Not even from when you were kids?"
Dean snorted. "Hunters are never really kids. Well," he amended, "some are. But we weren't." And if that wasn't the saddest thing Tony had ever heard. "'Sides, we're lucky if we're alive on Christmas, much less up to celebrating." The hunter grinned and raised an eyebrow at Tony. "So teach us your ways, oh great Christmas Master."
Sam was sitting on the couch with his laptop, playing poker against some random person online and smoking them soundly while Jarvis piped Christmas music through the speakers. Pepper flopped down on the couch by his feet. "Favourite Christmas song?"
"Hmmmm?" Sam asked absentmindedly, winning the hand.
"Sam. Favourite Christmas song?"
The younger hunter looked at her over the top of the laptop. "I don't really know any." Pepper's eyes grew wide. "Christmas music isn't exactly Dean's speed. The car rides are a dozen classic rock cassettes. Or old rock radio stations."
"What about Christmas songs in movies? Or in stores?"
"We don't Christmas shop." Sam smiled at the thought of Dean in a Hallmark store, trying to pick out the perfect gift. "And I've only ever seen a couple full Christmas movies." His smile wavered. Christmas inevitably made him think of Jessica, even six years after. They had only spent one Christmas together, their sophomore year of college. Freshman year she had gone home; they hadn't been dating long enough for him to go with her and he had stayed on campus, working. The third Christmas never came. But Jessica had loved the holiday, had loved the baking and the movies and the spirit of the thing. They had watched It's a Wonderful Life and White Christmas and The Grinch, Jessica crying at the end of the former and laughing at how weirded out Sam was by the latter.
Pepper must have sensed his dip in mood. "Well then, we need to catch you up."
Which is how Dean walked in on Pepper and Sam buried under a pile of blankets with a bowl of popcorn, watching Scrooge. "Ghost of Christmas Past?" he asked, voice thick with skepticism. Pepper threw a piece of popcorn at him and he caught it in his mouth, smirking.
"Sit down and be quiet."
Dean complied.
Which is how Tony walked in on Sam still under a pile of blankets on the couch (and half asleep at this point) with Pepper and Dean on the floor with another stack of pillows and blankets half way through The Polar Express. "Tom Hanks! I love him." Tony flopped down next to Dean, tugging a blanket across his legs and leaning back, head by Sam's feet.
When Pepper emerged from their room for work the next morning, they were still there, Tony sprawled across a pile of cushions that supported his chest, Dean and Sam lying across various pieces of furniture but still within arm's reach of each other.
She made sure Jarvis took a photo before they woke up.
Dean was standing at one of the floor-to-ceiling windows watching the sunbeams dance over the ocean when the wisp of changing air current told him that someone was behind him. He spun, lashing out to grab the strong wrist of his silent attacker in one hand and bringing around the knife that was ever present in his jacket.
He nearly dropped it when the face registered; Natasha just smirked at him as he released her with an exhale. "Agent Romanoff." Dean slid the knife back into a pocket. "Sorry. I didn't know you were coming today."
The smirk relaxed into a smile, albeit with a raised eyebrow. "Natasha, please. Thanks for not stabbing me; Clint's around the house somewhere, by the way, so watch out for him, too. I think Bruce and Steve are flying in tomorrow and Thor might come sometime."
"Good to know." Dean ran a hand through his short hair and looked her up and down. She was wearing jeans and a green blouse, looking very… normal. "What happened to the ninja/spy military getup?"
She shrugged. "Christmas. I'm off duty. And even with Stark's modifications, the fabric still rubs around the ankles. It's uncomfortable."
"Yeah, it's terrible," Clint chimed in from the doorway that led to the bedrooms, looking amused at having walked into a conversation about clothing. "Chafes like nobody's business. Where are Tony and Sam?"
Dean flopped on the couch. "Getting a Christmas tree. I apparently don't appreciate the 'art' of choosing a tree, so I was not invited." He suddenly grinned boyishly, making him look much younger to Natasha and Clint. "Pepper went to buy stuff to make Christmas cookies tomorrow. I've haven't had Christmas cookies in… a long time."
Pepper chose that moment to walk back in, carrying only a few bags. "Well, that's good, because I just found out Tony ordered enough ingredients to make cookies for a small army. Hope everyone likes to bake." She toed off her shoes and headed into the kitchen. "I also hope you tall people are ready to help handle the Christmas lights!" she called.
Natasha and Clint both looked at Dean.
"Where's Sam when you need him?" he groaned and went to lend a hand, the two Avengers right behind him.
By the time Sam and Tony lugged a huge Christmas tree through the door, Dean was on a stepladder, Natasha directing as he straightened a wreath over the fireplace.
"Whew," Sam dropped his end of the tree, flopping on the couch where Pepper was sitting, organizing ornaments. "Where do you want this thing?"
"Where is it going to fit?" Pepper asked, eyeing the size of the monstrous tree.
"I thought the corner there," Tony gestured to the area near the fireplace. "We could move that little table and then it would fit perfectly. Let me go get the base and we'll set it up." It took Dean, Sam, Clint, and Tony before the tree was positioned perfectly to Natasha and Pepper's liking. They chatted merrily away the whole time, directing the men as the group tried not to break anything. Dean hadn't really been paying attention, just enjoying the chatter and the strange normalcy of it all. Suddenly, the hairs on the back of Dean's neck stood up and he took several steps back from the tree in order to find Sam. He located his brother on the other side of the massive pine, hands having suddenly stilled on the branch they had been moving, eyes fixed on something he couldn't see.
"Sam?" he asked, voice guarded.
"What did you just say?" Sam asked, turning suddenly to Clint. Tony and Natasha stopped what they were doing, picking up on the sudden tension.
"I said that Steve's friend Sam actually isn't coming. You haven't met Sam; he and Steve joined forces during the Hydra thing."
"The Hydra thing…" Sam muttered, eyes refocusing on the middle distance and lips pursing.
"Sam." Dean said, taking a half step towards Sam, this time a note of warning in his voice. "Don't even think about-"
Brotherly instinct kicked in before anything had even happened and he had rounded the tree in half a second, partially catching Sam as his knees buckled and he collapsed. Somehow, he managed to get a hand under his brother's shoulder and guide the dead weight that was Sam Winchester towards the floor, rather than the tree or the coffee table. "Damn. Fuck," Dean swore as Sam began to seize, just as he had the day they left Rhode Island. Sam's eyes were moving behind the closed lids, watching things only he could see.
"Dean?" Pepper sounded scared and Dean glanced up from where he was kneeling by Sam's head.
Dean didn't answer, just looked back at Sam, whose twitching limbs had begun to flail to a stop. "C'mon, Sam, don't do this to me again." They waited for a minute, two… his brother slowly stopped moving and lay motionless for a moment on the fancy rug, chest rising and falling minutely and giving the only indication of life. Acutely aware of the eyes watching them, Dean checked his watch and turned Sam's head towards him, cupping his cheek and ignoring the waver in his voice. "Sam. Sammy. Let's go, little brother, open 'em up. Come on."
Much to Dean's great relief, Sam's eyes fluttered open again, looking confused and very tired. "D'n." Sam's head rolled loosely to the other side, taking in the visibly worried Pepper and Tony and the blank faced Clint with raised eyebrows before looking back at Dean. "How long?"
Dean grimaced. "Longer than the first. By about thirty seconds." He reached out as Sam pushed himself to a sitting position, then helped pull him to his feet only to gently shove him into an armchair a moment later. Natasha walked back into the room (when had she left? Dean had missed it) and passed Sam an open bottle of water, which he took with a nod. There was a second as Sam sipped his water, Dean watched him like a hawk, and everyone else awkwardly tried to return to decorating the tree.
Sam spoke up. "Clint… you visited us in a motel? Because…" He frowned. "Because… something had happened to Cap…?" he hesitated. Clint opened his mouth to respond, but Natasha clamped a hand around his arm so tightly Dean could see the skin whiten under her fingers. They waited. Sam chewed on his lip, then his face brightened. "Hydra had infiltrated SHIELD. You had been attacked by your handler. Steve got shot but he's okay?" The last part sounded more uncertain.
"Yeah," Clint nodded. "That's pretty much the whole story. Sam is a friend of Steve's that helped take out the carriers."
"Wilson's a good guy, you can trust him. We're actually thinking about inviting him to join the Avengers." Natasha chimed in, voice smooth, neatly changing the subject.
Dean, however, was not done with Sam yet.
"Damn it, Sam, you can't scratch at the wall! If it's important enough that Death himself told you to keep it there, then listen, you moron! If just remembering the the crap that happened to your body while you were gone makes you have seizures, you can't take it if it breaks."
"Dean, I can handle it," Sam snapped.
"Don't give me that crap, Sammy. I've looked after you and I've known when you're hurting since we were kids. Look me in the eyes and tell me that you'll be okay if that wall comes down." The room was frozen, nobody breathing for a long moment.
Sam didn't look at Dean. "I'm not… it's not on purpose." He defended himself quietly. "It just happens. It just happens."
Dean scrubbed at his eyes, letting out a deep exhale. "Fine. Whatever. That's not what it looked like when you were waiting at the hospital for Ben and Lis-"
Tony wasn't sure who Ben and Lisa (he thought) were, but clearly, Dean didn't want to talk about it. He thought he had seen Dean being surly and cut off before, but it was nothing to what had just happened. The moment the names had slipped out of Dean's mouth and he had stopped himself from finishing the sentence, Dean had built a wall of his own, one that was solid as the Great Wall of China and twice as high.
Sam sighed. "Dean, I'm-" Dean cut his brother off with a hand.
"Just… shut up. Stay there. And help Pepper direct while we decorate the tree."
Sam complied and they returned to decorating the tree with relief.
Half an hour later, when Dean looked over for the umpteenth time and confirmed that Sam was finally asleep, he clamped his lips together and set down the ornament he was holding carefully. Then he walked to the door, yanked the car keys out of his pocket, and stalked into the California sun. Clint followed him, taking the duffle bag the Dean pulled out of the trunk and handed him without complaint before trailed the hunter back through the house to the porch, daring Dean with his eyes to tell the archer to leave.
Dean just frowned at him and unzipped the duffle bag, starting to pull out a variety of weapons and cleaning supplies. They worked in silence for a few seconds before Dean deftly reached out and popped open a box of small knives, picking one up along with a bullet. His shoulders relaxed minutely and Clint grinned as he saw what Dean was doing: carving a small sigil along the tip of the bullet. After nearly twenty minutes of cleaning and carving, Dean set everything down and just stared over the edge of the cliff at the ocean for a moment.
"God, that kid is going to be the death of me." Dean looked at Clint. "You got siblings?"
Clint's mouth quirked humorlessly. "I had an older brother. Our parents died when we were young. Dad was an alcoholic, beat on all of us when he was drunk, which was a lot." They sat in silence for a moment. "We ran away, met up with a circus. But Barney got jealous when I was chosen to apprentice the sword master and he wasn't. Eventually, he betrayed me. It was a long time before I found out what happened to him, but he's dead now."
Dean looked at Clint. That had not exactly been the happy family story he had been looking for. The slightly older man looked steadily back at him. Clint continued.
"But when we were younger, I would have moved the world for Barney. He was the parent, the responsible one, the smart one, the person who could fix anything. He could have hung the moon. And even after he left me for dead, I probably would have trusted him with a whole lot."
"Yeah, well. I went to hell for my younger brother and when I got back he was drinking demon blood. Then he went to hell and came back and didn't tell me he was alive." Dean deadpanned. He dropped the smirk. "I don't know, Clint. There might be too much between us now. And if the idiot keeps scratching at the wall, who knows what it'll do to him."
"I think you're right, Dean. You probably want the wall up." Clint looked away. "I was mind controlled by Loki for a couple days and that was bad enough. But-" the archer put down the knife he was holding and touched Dean's arm, getting his full attention. "If I know anything about you two, it's that you can do anything together. You'll get through this."
It was dinner time when Sam woke up and stumbled into the kitchen, trailing a blanket like a cape. Dean handed him a plate with a sandwich and a pile of fries and Sam took it gratefully, accepting both the food and the temporary truce on the topic of the wall.
"Remember that Christmas in Paris?" Natasha asked Clint. "Good food there."
"Yeah, that was a good one," Clint nodded before taking a bite of his sandwich. "Phil broke into that fireworks store and we almost blew up the Eiffel Tower on accident." He grinned. "Quite the show."
"What about you two, any stories?" Pepper asked Sam and Dean, smacking Clint fondly as he tried to draw a picture of the Eiffel Tower on fire using ketchup.
Dean raised an eyebrow and Sam sent a disbelieving look in Pepper's direction. "Hardly. You may have picked up on this, but Christmas isn't really a Winchester family tradition," Dean said, dragging a fry through some ketchup and popping it in his mouth.
"We did have that one with Bobby," Sam chimed in with a shrug.
"I didn't know you remembered that!"
"Well, I don't remember much." Sam amended, taking a bite. "I was what... four? But I know it happened."
"Well, I was eight so yeah, you were four," Dean calculated, then looked around. "You all know about Bobby, right? Hunter, researcher, all around good guy?"
Everyone nodded and Dean went on. "Well, he practically raised us for a while, after a hunt gone wrong. Dad showed up at Bobby's with a broken rib, I needed stitches, and Sam was scary sick for a three year old, freaked me out. Bobby told our dad to get out of dodge before he blasted him full of rock salt."
Natasha raised her eyebrows in approval. "And how long did that last?"
Sam shrugged again. "Off and on for our entire lives. But there was about… a year?"
"Ten months, give or take," Dean agreed. "We lived only at Bobby's, didn't even see Dad for most of it. I think that was the only Christmas we had with the whole thing, a tree and gifts and cookies. We had a few more, sort of, but generally Christmas was a time for recognizing that we lived through another year."
"And that's it?" Pepper asked quietly. "One Christmas?"
"I had one with Jessica. Our sophomore year." Sam took another bite of his sandwich, looking across at the pile of cookie supplies beginning to accumulate for the next day. "She liked to bake."
"So did mom," Dean added somewhat unexpectedly. He almost never talked about Mary Winchester, never brought her up in casual conversation and his brother's head snapped his direction at the unusual openness. "We've got her cookie recipe somewhere." Sam looked at Dean as his brothers face softened further and he considered for a moment. "We also sort of celebrated a few years ago…" He paused for a second and shook his head. "I guess we've had a lot of half-Christmases." Dean said, thinking about all those years growing up where he would give Sam a gift, Sam would give him one, maybe something would come from their dad. "The one a couple years back was sort of interrupted by a pair of pagan gods."
"Dicks," Sam muttered and Tony laughed.
"Pagan gods? How did that turn out?"
"I lost a fingernail, Dean lost some blood, they got ready to pull out one of Dean's teeth and then we escaped and killed them both," Sam grimaced. "So much for a happy holiday."
"Well, you did set the thing up for me when we got back to the motel." Dean noted. "As 'last Christmas on Earth' it wasn't too bad."
Sam grinned at him boyishly and then looked around to see everyone looking fairly concerned. "That was the year before-"
"I went to Hell," Dean finished bluntly. "And if you're going to have only one Christmas, you make it a good one."
Sam slumped into the kitchen the next morning to find Dean making pancakes, going through a small and weathered cardboard box, and chatting casually with Captain America and Bruce Banner.
All three turned to look at him when he dropped into a chair at the table. Dean pointed at him with the spatula. "Hair. I'm telling you..."
Sam rolled his eyes and shoved it back from his face, running his fingers back over his head and patting down his bedhead into something more Dean-friendly. "You're not cutting it, Dean." He could see Bruce grinning out of the corner of his eye but didn't look away from Dean until Steve poked his brother and nodded at the pancakes.
"When did you guys get here?" Sam asked through a yawn, accepting the cup of coffee Bruce slid his way.
"Just half an hour or so ago," Steve said, taking a sip of his own coffee. "Came from the New Mexico base."
"Wow. Super-secret spy biz?"
Bruce laughed and started pulling butter, syrup, and fruit out of the fridge. "Super secret science biz for me and Jane Foster, Thor's girlfriend. She's an astrophysicist," he added at Dean's raised eyebrow. "Steve was there because he keeps people from talking to me and I get to finish my work faster."
"I just stand and glare. It's a good deterrent."
Sam laughed. The conversation lulled for a moment before he glanced back at Dean. "What's with the box?"
Dean's eyes grew comically wide. "You haven't seen it yet! I forgot!" He shoved the small box in Sam's direction before going back to pouring pancake batter while he explained. "I found it at Bobby's, buried under some books in his library. He totally forgot he had it, said that Dad left it with him back when we were little and were staying with him towards the beginning. It's been in the back of the Impala."
Sam popped the box open, starting to carefully pull out items. "Photos?"
"Nine of them, but great-grandpa Winchester's pocket watch is also in there. And… Dean left his spatula and came to rummage until he pulled out an old sheet of lined paper. "There's mom's sugar cookie recipe."
"Why didn't you tell me we had this?"
"I forgot," Dean defended. "I just remembered because we were talking about cookies. I was going to tell you at the time, but you didn't have a soul and probably wouldn't have cared." The brothers glared at each other for a second before Sam conceded and nodded in agreement. "Oh, and these two know about the whole soul thing." He slid Sam a plate and Sam tore himself away from the box of valuables to eat.
"Is that your mom?" Steve asked, pointing to the cookie recipe. It had curled when Sam set it down, conforming back to the shape it had been pressed into by years in the box and the edges of a photo were visible on the back. Dean snatched it off the table and flipped it over, his expression softening into something younger and sadder. It was a four by six shot of a kitchen, a very young boy standing on a chair at the counter and stirring a bowl of cookie dough with one hand, using the other to wave at the camera. His face and shirt were dusted lightly with flour. Next to him, Mary Winchester leaned back against the granite countertop, heavily pregnant but smiling at person holding the camera, right hand on her stomach, left hand steadying her older son. The photo was captioned in a square script that Steve and Bruce could guess was John Winchester's: Mary, Dean, and soon to be Samuel. April 1, 1983.
"I'd forgotten," Dean almost whispered. "Dad helped me convince her to make them for April Fool's Day."
"Dad took it?" Sam asked, taking it from Dean and smiling faintly at his family.
Dean nodded, the smile fading the longer he looked at his mother, immortalized forever with a smile on her face and a hand on her sons.
"She was beautiful," Bruce commented softly.
"Yeah, she was," Dean replied.
Sam didn't answer; there was nothing to say.
By the time Tony was up and moving, the kitchen was already full of cookies and chefs. The counters were packed, covered with trays of the Winchester's sugar cookies, classic chocolate chip from Pepper, German kieflies that an old Brooklyn woman used to make from Steve. Natasha was finishing rolling out a batch of Russian tea cakes and Clint, while he hadn't contributed a recipe, was sitting on the only bare patch of counter left with a cup of coffee in one hand and a sugar cookie in the other.
"Wow," the inventor said, accepting his own cup of coffee from Sam before looking at each of the trays. "That's a lot of cookies."
"Don't worry," Dean shrugged. "We'll eat 'em all."
They spent the rest of the day playing Clue, taking it in turns but mostly laughing as Natasha and surprisingly Sam emerged as the clear victors every time one or the other came to the board. "Agggh I give up," Dean finally said, tossing his cards and half-filled notepad down on the table. "I'm never playing this against Sam again. How are you so good at this?"
Sam smirked. "Must be that fancy college education."
"How could I forget?" Dean rolled his eyes. "But let's see… who's the better hunter?"
"That's me, too," Sam said, exchanging a smirk with Natasha as Clint tried not to laugh. "Only when I didn't have a soul, though, according to Bobby."
"Wait a second," Pepper asked. "Where did you go to college, Sam?"
"Stanford," Sam answered, wistfulness and just a little pride in his voice. "Pre-law, full ride. Got a 174 on the LSAT."
"So what happened?"
Dean looked at Sam, silently asking if he wanted Dean to intervene. Sam shook his head. "We went to find Dad, but I was going to head back for a law school interview. The night we got back... Azazel murdered Jessica." There was a small inhale from Pepper and sympathy in everyone's eyes but to Sam's surprise, no pity. "After that, law school didn't seem as important. I thought: just one more case. But hunting… it's what we do. I couldn't give it up."
"What about you, Dean?" Pepper asked?
The man rolled his eyes. "Please. High school drop out, barely got a GED. Sam's the brains in this joint."
"Not like you're not smart, though," Sam pointed out. "You figure stuff out before I do all the time."
"You're both alive so that has to count for something," Natasha jumped in.
"And somehow Sam can beat everyone but the superspy at Clue," Steve said, shaking his head and injecting a note of levity.
"Well, a lifetime of lying to people asking about the freak accidents in their neighborhood helps, too," Dean added. And there was no arguing with that, just a wave of good natured agreement as they switched out, Natasha cracking her knuckles as she prepared to go head to head with Sam.
They spent the next week and a half in pre-Christmas merriment; watching movies, eating cookies, and even taking a trip to go ice skating.
(Something that both brothers were surprisingly good at, once they got their feet under them. A lifetime of working on balance and fighting hand to hand granted them the ability to move around the rink with ease, if not finesse. Pepper and Bruce were both spectacularly bad and eventually abandoned the ice in favor of watching from the side of the rink.)
They sparred in pairs, matching for different attributes: Sam's height and bulk against Steve's similar size, Dean's broad shoulders against Natasha's lithe frame, both brothers together against Clint and Natasha, which lasted nearly a half hour without either side giving quarter and was ended by Pepper making them take a break and drink some water.
Rhodey's introduction was awkward; while he had heard a lot about the Winchesters from Tony, he had never met either of them before. In fact, the only time he had even seen either of them was when Sam had arrived at Tony's house half drunk after Dean had been killed by the hellhounds. Dean had broken the moment of silence by holding out a hand and officially introducing himself. "Dean Winchester. Not dead," he said with a smile. "My brother Sam, who you've apparently seen before. Also alive."
Rhodey, who was possibly so used to Tony that he just ignored all strangeness at this point, shook hands with both and said it was nice to meet them before joining them in sparring later and winning Dean's lasting respect by holding his own against Sam, who was at least eight inches taller than him.
To Steve's obvious disappointment, Sam Wilson called and confirmed that he had to cancel his trip. The call was overwhelmed by Tony and Pepper coming back from a fancy dinner, Pepper glowing and with a diamond ring on her finger. That lead to a night of champagne and more cookies, celebrating the engagement. "I don't think I've ever seen someone get married," Dean noted.
"Well, you're invited to the wedding, so here's your chance," Pepper said. Dean's smile could have powered New York.
Despite the size of the house, there wasn't room for everyone to have their own bedroom while Rhodey was there. Pepper and Tony? Plenty of room. Pepper, Tony, and the Winchesters? Fine. Pepper, Tony, and the Avengers? Still good. But Pepper, Tony, the Avengers, the Winchesters, and War Machine? That was a person too many, even with Clint and Natasha doubling up and people on the couch and floor. Rhodey offered to take the floor, but Dean said he would take it; Rhodey had to leave the next day for a mission and he deserved a good night settled in with a very full house, spread over half a dozen guest rooms and the living room.
However, it wasn't like they all remained in their beds. It was not a particularly good night for nightmares and by three in the morning, the kitchen had Steve, Dean, and Clint all in it anyway.
Dean hadn't been particularly surprised when Clint stumbled in, just offered him a glass and pushed the bottle of Tony's high end whiskey in his direction. From what he'd heard, Clint's spy life wasn't always the happiest job and Clint himself had told Dean about his terrible childhood. The hunter had been more surprised when Steve joined them, blanket wrapped around his shoulders. "You too, huh?" Steve asked Dean. "Don't know why I'm surprised, really."
"You shouldn't be," Dean grunted, draining his glass and holding it out to Clint for a refill. "I don't actually sleep that much, anyway. Hunter's sleep schedule."
"Sam does," Clint commented.
"Only sometimes," Dean said. "When we're working a case, he's just as bad as me."
As if on cue, Sam made his way into the kitchen. "Speak of the devil," Dean said, then winced because that probably wasn't a good thing to say around Sam, especially when he had just woken up from a nightmare. There wasn't any other reason for Sam to up this early. "The Cage?" he asked his brother, pouring a few fingers of whiskey and sliding it to him. He raised an eyebrow in Steve's direction and to his surprise the supersoldier shrugged and nodded, taking a glass of his own even though it wouldn't do him any good.
Sam shook his head. "Detroit. Chasing Bobby around his house with an axe."
Dean nodded and pushed Sam's glass a little closer until Sam picked it up and took a drink.
Clint laughed harshly. "Welcome to the Early Morning Alcoholics Club."
Despite being up with the EMAC for the third day in a row, Steve was already awake and making bacon when Sam walked barefoot into the kitchen two days before Christmas. "Brace yourself," Steve said immediately. "Thor is on his way."
Sam raised an eyebrow, accepting a cup of coffee and starting to pull stacks of plates and cups out of the kitchen cabinet. "Really? I wouldn't think that Christmas is a very Asgardian thing."
The soldier shrugged. "I don't think it is. He's coming to spend it with Jane, but he wants to meet you two and it probably wouldn't hurt for you to finally meet the last Avenger in case we ever have to work a case together."
Sam's eyebrow had gone down but it went right back up at the implication of that statement. He was prevented from further questioning, however, by the demigod himself. The wind picked up dramatically and Steve flipped the last pancake onto a plate before turning away from the griddle and walking to open the balcony door, opening it and letting a gust of cool, salty, sea air blow in under the heavy clouds that moved in and blocked the sunlight.
There was a flash of light and Sam found himself wanting to reach for the knife he kept tucked in his waistband as the pagan god appeared. Thor was… intimidating and Sam was sure he would feel the same way even if every god they had met so far hadn't fed on human flesh. He didn't really think that cannibalistic ritual sacrifice was a Thor thing (there was no way the Avengers would let him be on the team if it were true) but the Winchesters hadn't lived as long as they had (or at least lived and died and lived again) by being generally accepting and unsuspicious. The god stood scarcely an inch or so shorter than Sam and a good two inches taller than Steve, making him one of the first people in a long time Sam literally stood eye to eye with. He was wearing regal scale armor and a flowing red cape fell from his shoulders to the floor, making Steve and Sam, who were both in sweatpants and t-shirts, look vastly underdressed. Thor's hair was even longer than Sam's own, something Sam knew would amuse Dean to no end. His shoulders were broader than Sam's were and packed with the muscle that came from years of training, wielding a sword and shield and in this case, hammer. The weapon itself was held loosely in Thor's hand, etched with Celtic runes and looking (Sam was sure) deceptively light.
But notwithstanding his general appearance, the big man smiled and he suddenly looked much gentler. "Steven! It is good to see you again, my friend." He reached out and clasped Steve's forearms in his own, Steve reciprocating and grasping the demigod's bracers. Thor held the pose for only a second before releasing him and looking back to Sam, smiling at Steve with a question in his eyes until Steve introduced him.
"Thor, may I introduce Sam Winchester, cousin of Tony Stark and a warrior in his own right."
Comprehension dawned on Thor's face. Sam wanted to balk a little at the formal introduction but didn't have a chance before Thor crossed the room in a few quick strides and took Sam's arms the same way he had Steve's. "It is an honor to meet you, Samuel Winchester. Both my father, King Odin, and your own kin, Anthony Stark, speak of you with much respect and the Gatekeeper Heimdall has kept watch over you and your brother since your return to the land of the living."
The hunter didn't know how to respond to that. "Um. It's an honor to meet you too, Thor. The others have told my brother and I a lot about you."
"I am sure you have questions for me, as I do for you." Thor took a step backwards, releasing Sam's arms before beginning to unbuckle the bracers and shed part of his armor, stacking it neatly against the wall.
"Well, uh. Yeah," Sam said. There was probably a delicate way to do this, but Sam didn't know what it was so he just asked straight out. "Sorry, but um. Do you eat... people? I mean, most of the gods and demigods we've met, including King Odin at the Elysian Fields Hotel, eat people to survive, so..."
If Sam hadn't been so concerned about Thor pausing in the removal of his outer armor and summoning his hammer to smash him into a million bits, he would have laughed at the expression on Steve's face. The hunter had one hand casually on the knife again, even though the Avengers (and SHIELD) probably wouldn't like him stabbing one of their own. But Thor just laughed, a deep chuckle that filled the room and Sam relaxed a little; it didn't sound like he was about to send Sam back to Hell. "Nay, we do not eat human flesh. Unlike many of the lesser entities, we of Asgard were powerful of our own accord, eons before the human race worshipped us, and do not need the sacrifices of humans to fuel our lives. No person, even Odin-King, does not eat your kind, nor did you see the real Odin at the meeting of the gods."
Much to Sam's surprise, the demigod joined him and Steve at the table, heartily digging into a plate of pancakes and bacon as the Avengers slowly trickled in and started to eat. Most of them received the same forearm clasp, although when Pepper and Tony entered, hand in hand, Thor stood and bowed. "Anthony and Lady Potts! My congratulations for your upcoming wedding! I will try to be here for the event and wish you great happiness." Tony repeated the shield bearer's greeting, but Thor bowed over Pepper's hand and kissed it before letting her give him a quick hug.
Clint and Dean entered the kitchen last, the chatter dying down a little as Clint greeted Thor and then the demigod turned his attention to Dean. The older hunter shot Sam a quick look and Sam gave him an affirmative "it's okay, he doesn't eat people" nod before Dean performed the same ritual as the others. "An honor to meet you as well, Dean Winchester. As I told your brother, both your cousin Anthony and my father Odin speak of you most highly."
Dean didn't know how to respond any more than Sam did, and just inclined his head a little, accepting the compliment for once in his life, although the raised eyebrow showed how much he doubted the validity of the statement- people were generally not very happy to meet them. "Good to meet you too, Thor."
And so breakfast continued, Sam, Bruce, and Thor chatting about the extension of Odin's consciousness that had been present at the Elysian Fields Hotel and how it compared to the physical presences of the remaining gods who had been there. Natasha was listening to Dean talk about a wendigo case they had worked years ago, Pepper was typing on a tablet, Tony had taken over for Steve at the griddle and was working on another round of pancakes as Steve and Clint tossed each other extra cutlery to spread around the table.
Thor gladly sat with the hunters and the attending crowd of listening Avengers when breakfast was over. Sam was flipping through a book of lore he had retrieved from the Impala, while Thor pointed out inaccuracies and showed Dean various places some of the warding was replicated in the etching covering different plates of his passed nearly an hour and a half until Clint complained that he was going to die from boredom, although Bruce looked on the verge of abandoning physics and taking up mythical symbolism instead. They migrated to the gym, Thor joining their sparring session and finding that he and Sam covered each other's backs nearly as well as Dean and Sam did. Dean laughed as his tall brother pivoted, shoulders mirroring the Norse God of Thunder that they were fighting with, quickly spinning to take on Natasha as Thor deflected Steve's shield.
It was about forty five minutes into the sparring when it happened. Sam had subbed out for Clint and was standing to the side watching Natasha; there was something about the fluidity of her movements that caught his eye and reminded him a little bit of Castiel and the angels when they fought. He was watching the pattern of the fight, tracking the heart of the melee and following who was winning the skirmish when Steve threw the shield backhand and Sam froze. He had seen that before, somewhere, the same movement, the same pattern…
This time, Dean was too caught up in the fight to see Sam's posture change until he was falling towards the floor. He lunged across the room towards his brother, but didn't make it in time, Sam's forehead catching the edge of the bench behind him and slicing open cleanly as he collapsed. "HOLD!" Thor roared, ending the skirmish in an instant as Sam started to seize yet again. Natasha appeared at Dean's side, deftly avoiding Sam's flailing arm as she pushed his torso and bleeding head away from the bench and wall and into the open where it couldn't hit anything.
Bruce had arrived an instant later; apparently knowing that Sam had issues from having his soul replaced and actually watching the same person have a seizure because he was being assaulted with memories of hell and what terrible things he did on Earth without a soul were different things.
It was dead silent in the training space until Sam's body finally relaxed. Dean's hands gripping the front of his brother's shirt didn't, though, and he looked up to find Thor's eyes locked not on Sam, but on him. The hunter shrugged it off, looking back at his brother.
"Sammy, come on, look at me." Sam's eyes slowly opened and he groaned, focusing on Dean even as one hand came up to touch his forehead. His eyes widened as he brought his fingertips back into view covered in blood. "It's fine Sam, just a cut, just a cut," Dean reassured, pulling Sam into a sitting position. Sam inhaled and let out a deep whoosh of air, visibly trying to slow down his breathing, one hand mirroring his brother and holding tightly to the fabric of Dean's shirt.
"Sorry," he shakily said, avoiding the eyes around him. "Sorry."
"Stop apologizing, you moron," Dean said, cupping Sam's cheek and tilting his head down so he could get a better look at the cut that was still dripping blood down Sam's cheek.
Instead of responding to Dean's words, Sam looked around until he found Steve, intently studying him for a second. "I think… I saw you sometime in the last year."
Dean pulled Sam's head back towards himself, taking the sterile wipes Bruce was holding out and starting to clean off the drying blood. "Just soulless memories, then?" he asked, faintly hopeful. He kept his voice relaxed, but his face was set and shoulders were tense.
Sam grimaced. "Both." He fell silent, eyes hooded.
Dean frown deepened. Both meant that Sam got a double whammy- not that he didn't usually, it was just that for once it would have been nice to have a brother not trying to cope with what his body had done but also what Lucifer had done to his soul. "Well, no scars for you here. No stitches," Dean said, applying the bandage in question. If only he could patch up Sam's mind as easily as he could his forehead.
"You were looking for someone," Sam suddenly spoke up again, looking back at Steve. "And you were checking squatter houses. I was in one, hunting solo. Before Samuel," he directed at Dean, who nodded. "You didn't see me. But someone or something attacked you and you threw the shield backhand, like you did when Thor came at you a minute ago."
"It was winter?" Steve asked. Sam nodded. "Hydra," the soldier confirmed. "We were looking for Bucky and found a cell in that group of houses. I didn't even know you were there."
"I didn't say anything," Sam shrugged. "I didn't care."
"What is this madness that has taken your mind, Samuel, that you do not remember?" Thor asked, kneeling in front of the bench directly next to Dean and looking into Sam's eyes. Sam's breath caught because Thor's eyes looked like Sam felt; old, older than his body. An old soul who had seen many, many years of life. Sam could see the difference, though. Thor's eyes held battles and comrades lost and death, yes. But they seemed wise and balanced with happiness and Sam could only feel broken in comparison.
"You guys go back to the match, I'll explain to Thor," Dean said, standing and waving the others away.
"No, I'll do it," Sam quietly responded, nudging Dean's knee with his own.
Dean gave him a look that Sam remembered well ever since they were little; he meant business. "You sure?"
The younger Winchester nodded. "I'm sure."
Thor joined Sam on the bench, Bruce taking his other side and rummaging through the first aid kit to find an ice pack. He broke the crystals inside and handed it to Sam, who looked at it for a moment before lifting it to his head and turning towards the other two. "So you know that I was dead, right?" Thor nodded. "Well, I wasn't just in hell, I was in the Cage that holds Lucifer." Thor's eyes widened.
Sam shrugged. He seemed to be running out of ways to describe the situation besides a shrug. It had happened and they had to deal with the fallout. "I was worried at the beginning that our half brother Adam would be there, but it turns out that when Castiel molotoved Michael with holy fire and Michael reassembled, Adam took a direct trip to heaven. So he wasn't there, it was just me and Michael and Lucifer. Two angels who hated each other and hated me even more."
Thor nodded his understanding. "But now you live."
"Because Castiel raised my body. But somehow, he left my soul." At that, the demigod inhaled sharply, a more dramatic reaction than Sam had yet seen.
"Body and soul separate?" Something near alarm had crept into Thor's voice.
"Yeah." Sam bowed his head. "It was like that for a little more than nineteen months. I was pretty much a soulless killing machine, apparently. Dean finally managed to work out a bargain with Death and Death put my soul back in my body, but he build a wall to keep the memories of the Cage away from the rest of me. It means, though, that I don't remember what I did while I was soulless either."
"But the wall isn't very solid," Bruce said, "And that's why you're having seizures?"
"The human mind is delicate and I was in the Cage for a long time," Sam shrugged and barked out a sardonic laugh. "It's just a shitshow up here right now. I'll see things and they'll trigger memories of the soulless time, but generally crap from the Cage comes back with it."
"If you don't mind me asking, how long…" Bruce trailed off, not sure if this was a triggering question or not.
"Was I in the Cage?" Sam finished. Bruce nodded. Sam smiled, a thin, bitter smile that Bruce thought had no right to be on a young man's face. "I don't know. I don't remember. But time runs differently in Hell. Dean was dead for four months and that was forty years in Hell. I was soulless for almost five times that."
Thor stood, summoning his hammer into his hand. "Know this, Samuel. I will speak with Frigga-Queen on your behalf, for if anyone deserves healing, it is you who saved this realm. Perhaps she will know of a way to unite your mind without harm."
Sam opened and closed his mouth twice, trying to find something to say to that. "Thank you," he eventually settled on. "Only…" he hesitated, hoping he didn't sound ungrateful. "Can you not tell Dean you're trying? In case it doesn't work."
Thor dipped his head regally. "I will agree to this." And with that, he strode into the battle, striking left and right to deflect Steve and Dean in quick succession.
Christmas Eve found them all balancing on the edges of melancholy, nostalgia, and happiness. Bruce sat in the kitchen for a while with a photograph of a young woman and a cell phone next to it that he never picked up. Steve spent a lot of time with a sketchbook and a compass. Clint and Natasha spent most of the day in the kitchen, eventually joined by Bruce, as they were apparently in charge of Christmas lunch the next day. Thor gave out another round of forearm clasps and dramatically parted from the balcony after placing a few packages under the tree. Midday, Dean and Sam called Bobby, wishing him a Merry Christmas and grinning when they found out that Sheriff Mills was planning on stopping by with some food the next day.
There was a lot of sneaking going around; every time Dean walked through the living room, there were a few more gifts under the large tree, wrapped in different papers. He, being the sneaky person that he was, had managed to slide his few presents under the tree while everyone had been playing with a small drone that Tony had built with Bruce and Sam in the lab the previous afternoon.
All in all, Christmas Eve was quiet. His last Christmas had been with Lisa and Ben… he didn't even want to think about that. But before that… there had been the year Sam had given him the amulet and realized for the first time why their Dad did what he did; the year he had been going to Hell so they sort of had Christmas but ended up also killing pagan gods, the year after that when they had in the middle of stopping the apocalypse so Christmas was completely forgotten, two Christmases when Sam had been at college and the name of the holiday never even came out of his father's mouth (even though he had to have noticed the envelopes of gift cards and stingily hoarded cash that Dean sent his brother). The Christmas two months after Jessica had died, when Sam had pretty much shut himself in for a few days and totally ignored Dean until the holiday was well past.
So the Dean Winchester Christmas Track Record? Not to good. Which is why Dean was amazed when Pepper started doing something as normal and Christmas-y as hanging stockings after dinner.
It was an odd scene: Tony had dug up a pile of hooks from somewhere and they were stacked on the table. Natasha disappeared for a moment and reappeared with two stockings, both in the same SHIELD blue but in a velvety fabric with "Natasha" and "Clint" embroidered in a silver thread along with a small spider on one and a small arrow on the other. "Gifts from Phil. Coulson, that is. Christmas mission, '05."
Natasha started what she declared to be the "Avenger's Side" of the mantle, hanging hers and Clint's on the far end and fixing Steve with a look until he smiled. "Got it, Tony?"
Tony grinned and pulled a stocking out from behind him, handing it to the soldier. "Took forever to find. I can't believe you took it with you and left it with Howard, of all people."
"I didn't take it with me. Mrs Caplesmith, who let out the apartment to me and Bucky back in Brooklyn, sent them to us at Christmas. I don't know what happened to his, though." Steve's smile faltered.
"I'll keep an eye out for it," Tony promised, and Steve's smile wavered back to life before he went to hang his on the Avengers end.
Pepper rummaged around in a box at her feet until she found what she was looking for and she hung a stocking the color of Thor's cape next to Steve's, pulling out her phone to take a picture, presumably to send to Jane. Bruce joined her, sliding another hook onto the mantle and quietly hanging a dark purple stocking that was stitched with "Rebecca and Bruce."
"My mother. My father… was not a Christmas person." Bruce told Dean and Sam, sliding his fingers over the names. "She got it for us the year before-" he cut himself off and didn't finish.
"J, you up?" Tony asked, holding up an atrocious stocking at the a patch of wall that housed Jarvis' nearest camera and sensory system.
"For you Sir, always," the AI was able to sound amused.
"Jarvis is an Avenger in his own way but that one starts the other end, Tony," Pepper said, smiling at the camera array and Tony. The genius hung it on the other end of the mantle, Sam getting a full view. It was bigger than he had thought, made of a terrible bright green plaid and a red fabric that had "Jarvis" written on it in what looked like childish handwriting.
"I made it when I was little," Tony said, reading the question in Sam's eyes. "For Jarvis, the family butler. That's who J here is named after. He pretty much raised me."
"Sam?" Dean's slightly overwhelmed voice pulled his brother's attention away from the stocking just as Dean reached out to stroke a velvety navy stocking and a dark green stocking of the same material. They had appeared from somewhere when the brothers hadn't been paying attention and Sam wasn't sure why Dean was so- but then he saw it, "Sam" across the top of the blue and "Dean" on the green; the white lettering matched the embroidery of "Tony" and "Pepper" on the pair of red and whites that Pepper was pulling out of the box next.
"Pepper?" Sam asked, but it wasn't really a question because who else? The slender redhead stood, picking up the green stocking and walking over to hand it to him. Sam hesitated, but took it, putting a hand on Pepper's before she could pull away. "Thank you."
She smiled, moving over to Tony and picking up a few of the hooks before heading to the mantle and hanging four of them. Sam looked up from the stitching spelling his name on a Christmas stocking of his own to see Dean hanging his next to Jarvis' on the end; he hastily took a few steps over and slid his onto a hook next to his brother's. Pepper hung hers next and Tony finished out the line of decorations, the ten stockings evenly covering the entire mantle.
Before Sam left the room later to get ready to go to bed, he made sure to take a picture of them all, "Sam" and "Dean" clearly visible between "Jarvis" and "Pepper."
Dean snorted. "Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house everyone was awake. Because I woke up screaming." Sam ran his hand over his face at Dean's cavalier attitude and looked at the blinking time on the little alarm clock. 6:03. Not bad, as nights went. Everyone, as far as Sam knew, had slept through, unofficially disbanding the Early Morning Alcoholics Club.
That was until ten minutes ago, when Dean had started yelling "No!" and "Sam!" and "Please!" in a voice that made the hair on the back of Sam's neck stand up. He had woken up from his doze and sprinted down the hall, demon killing knife in one hand and pistol in the other, only to meet Clint and Tony at the door, Steve rounding the corner a moment later, and Natasha right behind him, raising an eyebrow at the weapons. By the time Sam pulled the door open and peeked in, Pepper and Bruce were there too and they all stood in silence for a moment, unsure if they should try to wake Dean up or not; he was now silent but his shirt was soaked with sweat and he was moving- until he woke with a start on his own.
Dean's eyes raked up and down Sam, taking in his disheveled appearance and the knife clutched in the steadying hand to the pistol hand. He took a second to control his breathing, shaking off the end of the nightmare. "We good?" he asked Sam.
"Are you good?" Sam shot back.
There was a moment as he catalogued. "I'm good," he responded. "'m fine."
Another awkward pause. The doorway was crowded with Avengers in pajamas and bedheads and nobody seemed to know what to say. Which is when Dean made his comment about the night before Christmas. Clint snickered, then half raised a hand. "Since it's morning and we're all awake, can we start Christmas now?"
Steve laughed and everyone turned to look at Pepper and Tony, who were now grinning. "Why not?" Tony said.
So Dean went to shower, Clint went to put on pants (he was wearing only boxers), Sam went to stow away his weapons, and everyone headed out towards the living room. By the time Dean made it out, there were cookies on the coffee table and Natasha was passing out presents.
They were random; Pepper's wrapped in neat red paper, both Dean's and Sam's in brown butcher paper and taped tidily on the ends, Clint's mostly in bags with colorful tissue paper.
It was organized chaos and Dean was loving it, everyone opening gifts and tossing balls of discarded wrapping paper around. Natasha had a bow on her head that Clint had peeled off a gift and Bruce had a ribbon tied around his neck as a by-product of sitting next to Tony. Dean turned to his own gifts, opening a mug from Sam that matched the one his brother was currently drinking coffee out of, reading "My Brother's Been to Hell." Bruce saw him open it and snorted; "Payback's a bitch," Sam called from the other couch, where he was opening the envelope Dean had written his name on.
The younger Winchester gasped when he pulled it open, a small picture fluttering out and onto his lap. "Tony helped me find it," Dean said simply. It was Sam and Jessica, sitting on a patch of grass at the base of a palm tree in the California sun with books spread around them. They were both laughing and the sun was shining in Jessica's hair.
"Pepper, here's yours from us," Sam tore himself away from the picture and handed Pepper the small package. She unwrapped it to discover a battered jewelry box, curiosity flitting over her face before she popped it open.
"It's beautiful!"
Natasha leaned over to look at it and nodded. Tony poked at it and Pepper smacked his hand away, lifting the necklace out of the box so that the others could see it. Bruce looked at it over his glasses. It was a hanging pendant, a small feather with the nib tipped in silver and formed into a loop to hang on the the long silver chain.
"Is that a feather?" Clint asked curiously.
"Sure is, Hawkeye," Dean smirked. "And not just any feather. That," he gestured, "is a one hundred percent genuine angel feather."
Pepper almost dropped the necklace. "What?"
"An angel feather. Useful in spells, has some basic protective properties." Sam grinned at the awed expressions on everyone's faces as they looked at the feather. It was small, almost downy, and a steely grey. "We've never actually seen an angel's wings, but we find these around every once in awhile after Castiel comes or goes in a hurry."
"Wow." Pepper sounded breathless and she pulled the necklace over her head even though she was still wearing pajamas. She slid off the footstool she was sitting on and rummaged around under the tree and handed Sam, Dean, Natasha, and Clint each a package. "From Thor."
They each slid the boxes open to find long hunting knives, the handles made of dark wood and etched with symbols and spellwork, most of which Sam and Dean could recognize. "Nice," Dean admired, swinging the blade in a quick circle. "Good balance." He set the blade down and looked over at Tony. "Ready for this?"
Tony looked confused. "Ready for…?"
Dean took a deep breath, as if preparing to do something very dangerous. Sam worked to hide a grin. "For Christmas, I'm going to let you take my baby for a drive."
Tony's eyes widened. Dean had previously banned him from the driver's seat of his precious Impala but Tony had wanted to drive the car ever since he saw it.
"Really?" Tony sounded just as awed about the car as Pepper had about the angel feather.
The older Winchester grinned. "Really. We'll take her for a spin, break a few speed limits."
A few minutes later, everyone had wound down, smiles on faces all around. "Is that all of them?" Natasha asked, pushing some wrapping paper away from the tree with one foot in case it was hiding something.
"Oh," Sam said. The Avengers watched with interest as he met Dean's eye, then reached into his pocket, pulling out a tangle of cord that Dean apparently recognized, based on the slight widening of the hunter's eyes. The younger man shook out the ball, revealing an amulet hanging on a leather loop; Tony recognizing it as the charm that Dean had been wearing around his neck when they had first met and almost every time subsequently. He hadn't even realized that Dean hadn't been wearing it.
"You… I didn't know you…" Dean trailed off, sliding off the couch and crossing the room, reaching out to touch the dangling amulet that Sam had given Dean for Christmas all those years ago.
"I grabbed it before we left. Figured you might want it back at some point and left in the duffle bag. Merry Christmas, Dean." Sam dropped it into his brother's hand, only to get pulled into a brief hug.
"Thank you." Dean's voice was muffled in Sam's shoulder, but Sam nodded.
"Anytime."
Dean pulled back and returned to the couch, sliding the cord over his head and smiling to himself as the golden amulet fell to rest over his sternum where it sat like an old friend.
Sam and Dean both stopped in their tracks and Tony's heart broke a little at the amazed looks on their faces. "I don't think I've ever seen this much home cooked food in one place." Dean finally said. Tony turned to the table to find Pepper with the same expression he had probably been sporting: sadness and sympathy and heartbreak blending. He made an immediate resolution to feed up the Winchesters any time they were ever in the same place.
"Well, now's better than never." Bruce gave Sam a little shove forwards towards an empty chair and Dean followed, still looking a little awed at the Christmas feast covering the big table. There was turkey and ham, mashed potatoes and green beans, salads and breads and a row of pies on the counter next to the cookies they were still eating their way through.
Soon the room was full of chatter and the clink of silverware on heaping plates of food. The Winchesters ate like they had never eaten before; even almost two weeks of solid, non-diner meals leading up to this didn't stop them from stuffing themselves.
It was almost one when the meal tapered off, having moved from the dining room to the living room along with cups of coffee and plates of pie to accompany a game of scrabble between Sam, Tony, Bruce, and Steve.
The game had ended and everyone was sitting in various states of drowsing, watching Holiday Inn or Bruce and Tony making more and more complicated science terms with the scrabble tiles when Dean's phone rang with a particular ringtone.
Immediately, the business faces were on.
Dean sat up on the couch from where he was half laying, picking up the phone and making sure Sam was paying attention before answering. "Ruger." He frowned, swinging his legs around and planting them firmly on the floor. "Gideon? When did you leave Blue Earth?"
Sam's eyebrows shot up and he asked "David Gideon? The pastor?"
Dean nodded but kept up the conversation. "Hearts? Probably werewolves. Where are you?" He waited a moment and then rolled his eyes. "I know it's Christmas, but killing things that are killing people waits for no holiday. Where are you?" he repeated.
Jarvis obligingly pulled up a map and Dean looked it over. "Creston? We can be there in… three hours. Better give it four for good measure. See you then, try not to get killed." Dean hung up the phone with a snap.
"What's Gideon doing out of Blue Earth?" Sam asked.
"He apparently left after he discovered his daughter was...," Dean said, closing Jarvis' map.
"His daughter was what?" Clint asked.
"The Whore of Babylon," Sam said. Several sets of eyebrows went up. "During the apocalypse. A false prophet created to send as many souls to Hell as possible. It was complicated, but we had to kill her. That's apparently her dad calling us. He used to be a pastor but… things changed."
"Pepper, Tony- sorry to abandon ship so fast, but we've got business," Dean looked at Pepper, who was clearly trying to smile even though she looked upset.
"I understand," she nodded. "How long until you leave?"
"As soon as we're ready," Sam said. "Sorry."
"I'll pack you some food to go," she stood, Bruce following her to the kitchen.
The brothers spent forty five minutes gathering their belongings, loading weapons, and changing clothing- it amused Natasha to no end to simply watch from the couch as the brothers moved in and around the house, first in shirtsleeves, then in ties (Dean's tied and Sam's still hanging), then in full smart black suits with polished shoes. Eventually, everyone reunited in the living room, Sam and Dean looking spiffy and going through a box of what looked like fake IDs. "Ruger and Bersa?" Sam asked and Dean nodded, accepting the FBI ID his brother handed him before tucking his own into the inside pocket of his suit jacket.
A moment of awkward silence ensued. The brothers were fully dressed in suits; everyone else was in sweats and t-shirts. It was Christmas Day and the duo were getting ready to go kill monsters.
As one, the team grabbed various bags and tupperwares of food packed by Pepper, Bruce and Steve, following the boys out to the car. They were loaded in the trunk and Dean pulled his keys out of a pocket. "Sorry about the ride, Tony. Remind me next time," Dean grinned. Much to Pepper's surprise, Sam stepped forwards and gave her a hug. She had hugged him before, but she had always had to initiate; this was the first time that Sam had started the hug.
"Thanks for a great Christmas, Pepper." Sam stepped back and Dean took his place, the older Winchester giving her a hug and a jaunty smile. There were handshakes all around before Dean gave a cocky salute, Sam gave a little wave, and both brothers slid into the sleek black car and drove off into the Christmas sun.
Thanks for reading! Drop me a line and tell me what you think!
I may or may not post next week- this one took me so long to write and even though I'm on spring break I have SO MUCH homework to do!
(Hey you people! Tell me next time the page breaks are gone and I'll fix them faster so you can read this easier!)