A/N: And now, Sam Winchester explains why he's the boy who really doesn't hate Christmas. This is all SciFiNutTx's fault. I blame her, and you should too, for Dean's "nookie" remark directed at Sam in this chapter, and a lot of the stuff in the next chapter, especially about what goes on in the Impala's trunk.

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or Barbie. This is for entertainment only, and not for profit. If you sue me, you won't get much.

Sapphire Barbie was the first one. Christmas, 1991.

It was the thought that counted. I never forgot that my big brother busted his hump to give me a Merry Christmas when I was a kid. Never forgot he tried to comfort me in his own way when I found out that shadows have teeth and there really were things hiding out there in the dark. That was the year I finally realized how fucked up our family really was.

Dean tried his best to make me feel better, but he was thirteen at the time and I was nine. I didn't have the faith in Dad that Dean had. I guess Dean had to feel that way about him, to be able to keep his own sanity. I mean, for him to think otherwise, that Dad made mistakes, that he could get killed by the things we hunt, and that he couldn't protect Mom or us from monsters?

That's a damn heavy load for a kid to bear, but Dean dealt with it. I couldn't.

I get it now. I didn't back then. I couldn't see any other way but my way. Yeah, I always gave Dean a hard time about Dad. I don't do that anymore.

Anyway, about the Barbies.

I don't remember what I did with the first one. Dean boosted it from this house down the street, and I thought about taking it back. I was going to throw it over the fence into the back yard, with the rest of the stuff he took, but then I decided that maybe that wasn't very smart, so I didn't. Dad came home beat all to hell a few days after Christmas. We waited until he felt well enough to drive, and then we hit the road.

The one bright spot about that Christmas was my gift to Dean. I gave him the amulet that Bobby wanted me to give Dad. Dad didn't deserve that. Dean did. His face lit up when I gave it to him. He was happy. After all he'd done for me, I wanted to see Dean smile, and he did. He's worn the amulet ever since.

We were in Baltimore, Maryland for Christmas next year. The way I remember it, we were alone, as usual. Dad was out on a hunt. So what else was new, huh? Singing carols and all that other stuff? Putting down salt lines at the windows and doors was more like it.

There was a tray of ice cubes and a moldy, wrinkled lemon in the refrigerator. Like I told you, Christmas never has been a Hallmark moment for me.

Christmas Eve Dean tucked his gun into his back waistband and slipped a stocking cap and his lock pick set into his jacket pocket.

Don't ask, don't tell seemed pretty good to me. So I didn't. I hunkered down in front of that crappy old television, pretended to watch Rocky and Bullwinkle and prayed that God would let my brother come back, alive, safe, and in one piece.

Several hours later Dean strolled in with a bag of groceries. We had turkey deli sandwiches that night. They were pretty good, too.

I never asked Dean where he got the money. I knew what he did to get it. I was just relieved he came back.

I got Teen Talk Barbie that year. God, I hated that doll. "Math is tough!" my ass.

Dad came home the next day and we rolled out of there January second. Another town, another hunt.

I got a Barbie for Christmas from 1993 to 1999. The dolls were always new, too, or at the very least, in gently used condition. I always got the doll and one or two other presents. Sometimes it was books, one time it was a brand new watch. I've still got that one. It was one of the few things I had that didn't burn up in the fire.

's funny, all this time I've been pestering Dean about sharing his feelings, and now I don't want to share mine.

Don't ask me any more about Jess, okay?

Anyway. Dean always gave the doll to me when Dad wasn't around. We'd be alone in our room later on and he'd dump the doll on my lap or my chest as I stretched across my bed. "Here, Samantha. Look at the purty pink wrapping paper."

I'd roll my eyes at him and pull out my bitchface: "Dude. Seriously? I'm not a kid. I'm not a girl. I know that's hard for you to remember, but work with me on this, will ya?"

The way Dean grinned when I said that was almost as good as the way he smiled when I gave him that amulet.

Didn't get any Barbies from 2000 to 2004. I was at Stanford, remember? I gotta admit, I missed getting the dumb things, you know? Never mentioned it to Jess.

What? You don't mention that kind of thing to your girlfriend, okay? She might think it was cute, but I didn't want to share that bit of information.

Sometimes I wish I had told her.

We were staying at the TreeTop Inn Christmas Eve 2005. I walked in on Dean and Wonder Woman Barbie that night. She was having a wardrobe malfunction with that golden breastplate of hers.

First and only time I ever saw Dean blush.

Christmas 2006 Dean got me NASCAR Barbie and a sweater when we were up in Montana.

We exchanged gifts. Porn magazines. Stuff for the Impala. I got Dean this special edition knife one year. Looks like the one we saw on Buffy the Vampire Slayer that time, but I had an Anasazi protection symbol engraved on both sides of the blade. I maxed out one of my credit cards, but it was worth it. Dean says he's gonna use it on Bigfoot if he ever sees one. I know he's full of it. Bigfoot aren't real.

I got Veterinarian Barbie the next year. Little Rock, Arkansas. Dean pretended the plastic puppy and kitten was a werewolf and a sabertooth tiger in a deathmatch. It was all part of the Circle of Life.

I let him get away with that one.

We couldn't get Dean out of the deal. After I buried him in that grove of trees I went out and killed everything supernatural within a twenty five mile radius.

Dean came back from hell months later, and I'll be damned if he picked up right where he left off. I was sitting at the table with my laptop when he strolled up to me, his right hand filled with wrapping paper. Pink, naturally.

"Hey, figured you could use a little help on the nookie front now that you lost that demon connection." Dean waggled his eyebrows at me and smirked.

I let him have my best bitchface and snarled at him as I ripped the paper open.

I saw her face and stopped snarling.

Black Canary Barbie.

Damn. I mean…damn.

Black leather, fishnet stockings. I swear when I looked at her it was like she was undressing me with her eyes.

She…she winked at me.

No. Couldn't be. I'm not feeling well. That's it. Couldn't be anything else, right? I've had a really bad cold for the last few days. Over the counter cold medicine makes me high sometimes. Yeah, that's…that's probably what this is all about. I mean, after all, Dean gave her to me.

It's okay.

Damn.

Dean and I are half a state away from Bobby's. Supposed to be a job waiting for us, but Dean really thinks Bobby just wants us around for New Year's. It's okay.

There's only one thing wrong. I don't remember putting the doll in my duffel when we packed up. I hope I didn't leave her there.

This feels awkward and selfish, but I don't want to give her away. She's got legs that go all the way up to her neck. Blonde hair. I like her smile.

She'll turn up when we get to Bobby's. I know she will. I'm going to keep her.

I usually give the dolls away, to little girls I see on the street, at the library, in the park or the laundromat. Sometimes it works out, and sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes the parents look at me like I'm a perverted creep or something, no matter how much I smile and back away.

I gotta pay it forward, just like Dean does. Yeah, he'd probably roll his eyes, call me Haley Joel and remind me how that movie ended if I ever mentioned it to him. So I don't.

I bitch just enough to make Dean happy every year. If I didn't, he'd stop.

And I don't want him to do that.

What? No, I didn't tell you her name.

And I'm not going to.

Sam's latest girl toy speaks her mind. Next.