December 22nd – December 25th, 2007

Sam discovered a new case. A man had been taken from his house while decorating his family's Christmas tree.

When they went to the house to speak to the widow, all they found of the man was one of his bloody teeth in the chimney. Dean seemed to think that an evil chimney sweep was killing people, but Sam thought otherwise.

Dean quickly left the motel to see if there was any more information about the disappearance around town. At the same time, Sam stayed behind to do some research. Sam had also bought me Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, so I laid in bed and read.

A couple of hours later, Dean returned. "So, was I right? Is it the serial-killing chimney sweep?"

"Yup. It's, uh, it's actually Dick Van Dyke," Sam said sarcastically.

Dean furrowed his brow. "Who?"

"'Mary Poppins'?" Sam asked.

Dean shook his head. "Who's that?"

"Oh, come on." Sam sighed. "Never mind."

Dean shrugged. "Well, it turns out that Walsh is the second guy in town grabbed out of his house this month."

"Oh yeah?" Sam asked.

Dean nodded. "Yeah."

"The other guy get dragged up the chimney, too?" Sam asked.

"Don't know. Witnesses said they heard a thump on the roof." Dean shrugged. "So, what the hell do you think we're dealing with?"

Sam nodded. "Actually, I have an idea."

"Yeah?" Dean asked.

Sam chuckled. "Uh, it's gonna sound crazy."

"What could you possibly say that sounds crazy to me?" Dean asked.

Sam sighed. "Um... evil Santa."

Dean paused for a second and then nodded. "Yeah, that's crazy."

I sat up in bed. "No, it's not that crazy." I looked at Sam. "Do you mean like Krampus?"

Dean raised an eyebrow and gave me a curious look.

Sam nodded and chuckled softly. "Yeah... I mean, I'm just saying that there's some version of the anti-Claus in every culture. You got Krampus..." He pointed to me. "Belsnickel, Black Peter. Whatever you want to call it, there's all sorts of lore."

Dean furrowed his brow. "Saying what?"

"Saying... back in the day, Santa's brother went rogue, and now he shows up around Christmas time, but instead of bringing presents, he punishes the wicked," Sam explained.

"By hauling their ass up chimneys?" Dean asked.

Sam nodded. "For starters, yeah."

"So, this is your theory, huh?" Dean asked. "Santa's shady brother?"

Sam shrugged. "Well, uh... I'm just saying, that's what the lore says."

Dean shook his head. "Santa doesn't have a brother. There is no Santa."

Sam nodded. "Yeah, I know. You're the one who told me that in the first place, remember?"

Dean put his head down with guilt.

Sam turned back to his laptop and sighed. "Yeah, ya know what, I could be wrong. I..." He sighed and again, shutting his laptop. "Gotta be wrong."

Dean shrugged. "Maybe. maybe not."

Sam furrowed his brow. "What?"

"I did a little digging. Turns out, both victims visited the same place before they got snatched," Dean said.

"Where?" Sam asked.

As we entered Santa's Village in town, there was Christmas music playing, children running around, and people wearing Christmas costumes.

"It does kind of lend credence to the theory, don't it?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, but anti-Claus?" Sam scoffed. "Couldn't be."

"It's a Christmas miracle," Dean said, "Hey, speaking of, we should have one this year

"Have one what?" Sam asked.

Dean shrugged. "A Christmas."

I furrowed my brow at him. "We've never really had one before."

Sam scoffed. "Yeah, no, thanks."

Dean shook his head. "No, we'll get a tree, a little Boston market, just like when we were little. Besides, I want Maddi to experience a nice Christmas."

"Dean, those weren't exactly Hallmark memories for me, ya know?" Sam asked.

"What are you talking about?" Dean asked. "We had some great Christmases."

"Whose childhood are you talking about?" Sam asked.

"Oh, come on, Sam," Dean said.

Sam shook his head. "No! Just... no."

Dean was taken aback. "All right, Grinch."

Sam zoned out for a second.

Dean looked around, disappointed. "You'd think with the ten bucks it costs to get into this place, Santa could scrounge up a little snow."

"What?" Sam asked as he shook his head, coming back to reality.

"Nothing. What are we looking for again?" Dean asked.

"Um..." Sam looked around. "Lore says that the anti-Claus will walk with a limp and smell like sweets."

Dean nodded. "Great. So, we're looking for a pimp Santa. Why the sweets?"

"Think about it, Dean," Sam said, "If you smell like candy, the kids will come closer, ya know?"

"Yeah, 'cause that's not super creepy," I said.

Sam chuckled.

"How does this thing know who's been naughty and who's been nice?" Dean asked.

Sam shrugged. "I don't know."

We looked up to see a man in a Santa Claus costume sitting on a chair in front of a small barn. He looked like an old creepy drunk man, the costume was dirty, and his beard was pulled down around his neck.

"Ugh." I groaned. "I'm so glad we never did the Santa thing."

"Why?" Dean laughed.

I shrugged. "'Cause the idea of Santa is super creepy if you think about it."

"How? He's a nice man who gives kids presents," Sam said.

"No, he's a creepy old dude who watches kids year-round and then sneaks into their houses and leaves presents behind if... he deems them worthy and he's left sacrifices," I said.

Dean nodded thoughtfully.

"Sacrifices?" Sam chuckled.

I nodded. "Yeah, cookies."

Sam shook his head. "The cookies are gifts for him."

I shook my head. "No, they're sacrifices. 'Cause if I didn't have to give them to him, I could eat them."

"I mean, she has a point," Dean said.

Sam shook his head and smirked. "You two are literally the same person."

Dean and I looked at each other and shrugged.

A woman in an elf costume walked a small child up to the man dressed as Santa and helped the boy sit on his knee.

"So, Ronny, come sit on Santa's knee." The man laughed once Ronny settled in. "Ah, there you go. You been a good boy this year?"

"Yeah." The little boy nodded.

"Good. Santa's got a special gift for you." The man cackled creepily.

Ronny's mother walked up to the boy and pulled him away. "Come on, honey, let's go."

The woman in the elf costume walked up to us. "Welcome to Santa's court. Can I escort your child to Santa?"

I frowned and shook my head quickly.

Dean put his hand on my shoulder. "No. No. Uh, but actually, my brother here..." He smacked Sam on the back. "It's been a lifelong dream of his."

The woman gave Sam a look like he was crazy. "Uh, sorry. No kids over... twelve."

Sam laughed uncomfortably. "No, he's just kidding."

The woman nodded her head at Sam awkwardly and then looked down at me with a smile. "Are you sure you don't want to?"

I shook my head. "I'm thirteen."

The woman smiled sweetly. "I'm sure we could make an exception for you."

"I'm good," I said straight-faced.

"We only came here to watch anyway," Sam said.

The woman snapped her head up at Sam and backed away slowly. "Ew."

"I— I didn't mean that we came here to wa— You—" Sam stuttered and then looked at Dean. "Thanks a lot, Dean. Thanks for that."

Dean laughed and then nodded up to the Santa impersonator. "Check it out."

We watched as the man got up and limped right by us, and as he did, a strong scent of candy hit me.

"Are you seeing this?" Dean asked.

"A lot of people walk with limps, right?" Sam asked.

"Tell me you didn't smell that. That was candy, man," Dean said.

I nodded. "I smelled it too."

"That was Ripple. I think. Had to be," Sam said.

"Maybe. We willing to take that chance?" Dean asked.

We had followed the creepy Santa impersonator back to his house, hoping that we would catch him in the act and put an end to the murders, but it was almost 2AM, and he hadn't even made a move.

We were all yawning and trying not to doze off. I had my head rested on my arms, leaning on the back of the front seat while we listened to music quietly and waited for something to happen.

"What time is it?" Dean yawned.

"Same as the last time you asked. Here..." Sam handed Dean a thermos. "Caffeinate."

Dean took the thermos, but when he tried to pour the coffee into the cup, only a single drop came out. "Wonderful." He sighed. "Hey, Sam."

"Yeah?" Sam asked.

"Why are you the boy that hates Christmas?" Dean asked.

Sam sighed. "Dean—"

"I mean, I admit it. You know, we had a few bumpy holidays when we were kids," Dean said.

"Bumpy?" Sam asked.

Dean nodded. "That was then. We'll do it right this year."

Sam shook his head. "Look, Dean. If you want to have Christmas, knock yourself out. Just don't involve me."

Dean looked over at Sam in disbelief. "Oh, yeah, that'd be great. Me and Maddi making cranberry molds without you."

We turned back to watching the trailer and noticed the Santa impersonator was looking out of his window and then slowly closed his curtains.

"What's up with Saint Nicotine?" Dean asked.

"Oh, my god!" a woman screamed from within the trailer shortly after.

We jumped out of the car and ran for the door. Sam and Dean had their guns drawn.

"Huh," Sam said once we reached the door.

"What?" Dean asked.

Sam shrugged. "Nothing. It's just that, uh... well, you know, Mr. Gung Ho Christmas might have to blow away Santa."

Dean rolled his eyes and kicked the door open. We all barged in to see the man sitting on the couch with a bottle of whiskey and a huge bong taller than me in his hands.

The man jumped up. "What the hell are you doing here?"

We realized that he was only watching TV.

"I'm really not interested, okay?" An actor dressed as Santa said on the TV.

A woman dressed in a tight elf costume bent down and whispered into the man's ear. "Mistle my toe. Roast my chestnut. Egg my nog."

Dean pulled me into his side, covering my ears and eyes.

Sam cleared his throat. "Uh, we—"

"S— Silent night... holy..." Dean started singing poorly and shrugged.

"Night." Sam joined in.

The man started laughing.

I pushed Dean off of me, and we all started singing together, badly. "All is... well..."

"All is dry." The man joined in.

"Bright..." Sam sang.

"Round and round..." we all sang together, not really knowing the words.

"The table..." Sam sang as he dragged Dean and me out of the trailer.

We quickly walked back to the car.

"I knew that guy was creepy," I said as I opened my door and hopped in.

After going back to the motel to get some rest, we woke up early to a police call. There was another victim that disappeared the same way.

Dean decided that we would get some more rest, and they would go talk to the victim's wife in a couple hours.

So, when they got up to leave, I decided to stay and sleep in since I wouldn't be able to do anything productive while they were meeting with the wife.

I woke up to a phone ringing on the nightstand, and I reached over and answered, "Hello?" I asked groggily while wiping the sleep from my eyes.

"You're still asleep? It's almost 10AM," Sam said from the other end.

"Yeah? So?" I asked.

"Not everyone's a morning person Sammy," Dean said in the background.

"Uh... okay. Well, can you do us a favor?" he asked.

"Yeah, what do you need?" I asked.

Sam sighed. "Well, the latest victim was also taken out of the house through the chimney. And I noticed that both victims had the same exact wreath on their door—"

"So, you think there's a connection?" I asked.

"Yeah, that's all we really have going for us right now," Sam said, "Do you think you could get a head start on research while we finish up here? My laptop's in my bag."

"Yeah, no problem. I'll see what I can find," I said.

"All right. Thanks, Maddi," Sam said.

"You're welcome." I smiled, even though I knew he couldn't see me.

Then the phone clicked off, and I got to work.

After almost an hour of searching and coming up short, I got bored and decided to start drawing. I thought that because it was almost Christmas, I would make Sam and Dean presents, even though we never really celebrated it. I could tell that Dean really wanted to this year, and I felt like it was because he was worried it would be his last chance to. So I wanted to at least do something nice for him.

Although I had gotten bored of researching, I realized that I had told Sam I would work on it, so I decided to give Bobby a call to see if he had any suggestions.

"Hello?" he answered.

"Hi, Bobby. It's Maddi," I said.

"Hey, sweet pea. Everything okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, everything's fine. We're actually working on a case right now. I'm not having any luck with research, and I was wondering if I could borrow some of your experience," I said.

Bobby chuckled. "Let's hear it then."

"Whatever this creature is has been taking its victims out of their houses through their chimneys, and the victims have the same wreaths on their front doors," I explained.

"Okay..." Bobby said.

I sighed. "Okay, hear me out. Sam suggested an... anti-Claus and—"

"A what?!" Bobby asked.

I winced at the sudden shout. "Uh— A— An anti-Claus."

"To suggest that means he thinks there is a Santa Claus," Bobby said.

I sighed. "I don't—"

"And Dean went along with this?" Bobby asked.

I nodded. "I mean—"

"Idjits," Bobby said.

I sighed. "Okay, but—"

Bobby sighed. "That wreath is probably made of meadowsweet."

"Meadowsweet?" I asked.

The door unlocked, and I turned in my chair to see Sam and Dean walk in and close the door behind them.

"It's a rare and powerful plant in pagan lore. It's used to draw their gods to human sacrifices. Most likely, whoever is doing this is leaving the sacrifices to Hold Nikar, the God of the Winter Solstice," Bobby explained.

"Oh wow, that makes a lot of sense. Thanks, Bobby," I said.

"A lot more sense than Santa and his deranged cousin walking around... tell your brother's they're morons," Bobby said.

"Will do." I smirked.

"I'll try to figure out how to kill this thing. Talk to you soon, sweet pea," he said and then hung up.

"What did Bobby have to say?" Sam asked.

"Well, it's not the anti-Claus, and he wanted you to know that you're morons." I smirked.

"You were all gung-ho for that idea too," Dean said as he sat down at the table with me.

I shrugged. "I didn't really get the chance to tell him that, and then I realized that he was making fun of you guys and keeping me out of it... so, why ruin a good thing?"

"Cute," Dean said sarcastically.

Sam shook his head. "Did he say anything else?"

I nodded. "He said that the wreaths are probably made of meadowsweet."

"Wow! Amazing. What the hell is meadowsweet?" Dean asked.

"He said it's a rare and powerful plant in pagan lore," I said.

"Pagan lore?" Dean asked.

I nodded. "It's used to lure gods to human sacrifices."

"Why would somebody be using that for Christmas wreaths?" Dean asked.

Sam shrugged. "It's not as crazy as it sounds, Dean. I mean, pretty much every Christmas tradition is pagan."

I nodded in agreement.

"Christmas is Jesus's birthday," Dean said.

I shook my head. "Technically, that's not true."

Dean furrowed his brow.

"Jesus's birthday was probably in the fall. It was actually the winter solstice festival that was co-opted by the Church and renamed Christmas." Sam shrugged. "But there's other signs of paganism too... I mean, the tree..."

I nodded. "The Yule log..."

Sam nodded and smiled. "Even Santa's red suit... that's all remnants of pagan worship."

Dean shook his head. "How do you guys know that? What are you gonna tell me next? Easter bunny's Jewish?"

I shrugged. "Well—"

Dean's eyes widened in disbelief.

"Just kidding." I smirked.

Dean rolled his eyes. "So, you think we're dealing with a pagan god?"

I nodded. "Bobby said, Hold Nickar. God of the Winter Solstice."

Sam sat down and started typing furiously on his laptop.

"And all these Martha Stewart wannabes, buying these fancy wreaths..." Dean said.

Sam nodded. "Yeah, it sounds like it's pretty much like putting a neon sign on your front door saying, 'come kill us.'"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Great."

"Huh..." Sam said as he read something on his laptop. "When you sacrifice to Hold Nickar, guess what he gives you in return."

I shrugged.

"Lap dances, hopefully," Dean said.

"Mild weather," Sam said.

Dean nodded to the window. "Like no snow in the middle of December in the middle of Michigan."

Sam shrugged. "For instance."

"Do we know how to kill it yet?" Dean asked.

I shook my head. "No, Bobby's working on that right now."

"We got to figure out where they're selling those wreaths," Sam said.

"You think they're selling them on purpose? Feeding the victims to this thing?" Dean asked.

Sam shrugged and exhaled sharply. "Let's find out."

After searching around the town for the wreaths for a few hours, we finally stumbled upon something promising. We made our way into a Christmas shop, and when we walked in, Deck the Halls was playing, and a shopkeeper stood behind the counter.

"Can I help you?" he asked as we approached.

"Uh, hope so. Uh, we were playing Jenga over at the Walsh's the other night, and, uh..." Dean said and then nudged Sam in the arm. "Well, he hasn't shut up since about this Christmas wreath, and..." He looked at Sam. "I don't know, you tell him."

Sam gave Dean a look. "Sure." He turned to the shopkeeper. "It was yummy."

The shopkeeper furrowed his brow. "I sell a lot of wreaths, guys."

Sam nodded. "Right, right, but— but you see, this one would have been really special. It had, uh— it had, uh, green leaves, um, white buds on it. It might have been made of, uh... meadowsweet?"

"Well... aren't you a fussy one?" the shopkeeper asked.

Sam looked embarrassed and annoyed all at once.

Dean chuckled. "He is..."

The shopkeeper shrugged. "Anyway, I know the one you're talking about. I'm all out."

"Huh. Seems like this meadowsweet stuff's pretty rare and expensive. Why make wreaths out of it?" Dean asked.

"Beats me. I didn't make them," the shopkeeper said.

"Who did?" Dean asked.

"Madge Carrigan, a local lady. She said the wreaths were so special, she gave them to me for free," the shopkeeper said.

"She didn't charge you?" Sam asked.

The shopkeeper shook his head. "Nope."

"Did you sell them for free?" Dean asked.

"Hell no. It's Christmas. People pay a buttload for this crap." The shopkeeper laughed.

"Well, that's one way to spread Christmas cheer," I said, sarcastically.

When we made our way back to the motel, it was dark out, and we walked in and took our jackets off.

"How much do you think a meadowsweet wreath would cost?" Dean asked.

Sam shrugged. "A couple hundred dollars, at least."

"This lady's giving them away for free? What do you think about that?" Dean asked.

"Well, sounds pretty suspicious," Sam said.

Dean and Sam sat down on their beds, and I sat on the couch.

Dean sighed. "Remember that wreath Dad brought home that one year?"

I shook my head. "Nope."

"You were too young." Dean thought for a second. "Actually, I don't even think you were born yet."

"You mean the one he stole from, like, a liquor store?" Sam asked.

Dean nodded and smirked. "Yeah, it was a bunch of empty beer cans. That thing was great. I bet if I looked around hard enough, I could probably find one just like it."

"All right. Dude... what's going on with you?" Sam asked.

Dean shrugged. "What?"

"I mean since when are you Bing Crosby all of a sudden? Why do you want Christmas so bad?" Sam asked.

"Why are you so against it?" Dean asked. "I mean, were your childhood memories that traumatic?"

Sam shook his head. "No, that has nothing to do with it."

"Then what?" Dean asked.

"I— I mean, I— I just— I don't get it." Sam shrugged. "You haven't talked about Christmas in years."

Dean nodded. "Well, yeah. This is my last year."

I knew that's what had brought his Christmas spirit on.

Sam sighed. "I know. That's why I can't."

"What do you mean?" Dean asked.

"I mean, I can't just sit around, drinking eggnog, pretending everything's okay when I know next Christmas, you'll be dead," Sam said sadly.

I got choked up and teary-eyed, just thinking about it.

Sam shook his head. "I just can't."

Dean looked at Sam and me, sadness on his own face. And we all were silent for the rest of the night.

The next morning, Sam found out where Madge Carrigan lived, so we made our way over to her house.

When we arrived, we pulled over in front of a large white house with tons of Christmas decorations on the lawn. We all got out and started making our way up to the door.

"This is where Mrs. Wreath lives, huh? Can't you just feel the evil pagan vibe?" Dean asked as we made it to the door and knocked.

A few moments later, the smell of evergreen and gingerbread hit us as an overly cheerful woman in a very modest pink and white sweater answered the door.

"Yes?" she asked in almost too sweet of a voice.

"Please tell me you're the Madge Carrigan who makes the meadowsweet wreaths," Dean said.

I peered into her house and could see Christmas decorations everywhere and handmade gingerbread houses on almost every counter and table.

"Why, yes, I am." She smiled proudly.

Dean looked at Sam and me and smiled. "Ha! Bingo."

"Yeah?" Sam asked Madge. "Uh, well, we were just admiring your wreaths in Mr. Sylar's place the other day?"

"You were?" Madge asked, happily, "Well, isn't that meadowsweet just the finest-smelling thing you ever smelled?"

Sam nodded. "It is, it sure is. But the problem is, is that all your wreaths had sold out before we got the chance to buy one."

"Oh, fudge!" Madge shouted.

"You wouldn't have another one that we could buy from you, would you?" Dean asked.

Madge shook her head. "Oh, no, I'm afraid those were the only ones I had for this season."

"Aw..." Sam said, feigning disappointment.

"Tell me something, why did you decide to make them out of meadowsweet?" Dean asked.

A man walked down the stairs and joined us at the door. He was wearing a cardigan and was using an old-fashioned pipe. Their hairstyles and clothing made it seem like they had walked out of a movie from the 1950s.

"Why, the smell, of course! I don't think I've ever smelled anything finer." Madge smiled.

"Yeah... um, you mentioned that," Sam said.

"What's going on, honey?" the man asked.

"Well, just some nice kids asking about my wreaths, dear." Madge smiled at her husband.

"Oh, the wreaths are fine. Fine wreaths. Oh, care for some peanut brittle?" Mr. Carrigan offered us some peanut brittle from a red tin.

Dean reached for a piece, but Sam pulled his arm away and smiled. "We're okay."

On our way back to the motel, Dean had gotten a call from Bobby. He informed him that stakes made of evergreen could kill our pagan god, so he got to work on that right away.

While Dean taught me to carve the stakes, Sam researched the Carrigan's.

"I knew it!" Sam clapped. "Something was way off with those two."

I looked up from my stake. "Yeah, they were pretty creepy."

"Hey, watch what you're doing," Dean scolded.

I looked back down and started carving. "Jeez... sorry."

"I just don't want you losing a finger," Dean said.

I put the stake and knife down on the floor so I could look up without getting scolded. "Can you say dramatic?"

"Can you say safety?" Dean asked.

"Since when is safety the first thing on your mind?" I asked.

"When it comes to you. Have you ever heard of the saying... do as I say, not as I do?" Dean asked.

"I mean from past experiences... I think it's safe to say I'm not always the greatest at doing what you say." I smirked.

Dean and I just stared at each other for a few moments when Sam cleared his throat.

Dean sighed at me and then looked over at Sam. "What'd you find?"

"The Carrigan's lived in Seattle last year, where two abductions took place right around Christmas. They moved here in January. All that Christmas crap in their house... that wasn't boughs of holly. It was vervain and mint," Sam said.

"Pagan stuff?" Dean asked.

"Serious pagan stuff," Sam said.

"So, what, Ozzie and Harriet, are keeping a pagan god hidden underneath their plastic-covered couch?" Dean asked.

Sam shrugged. "I don't know. All I know is we gotta check them out. So, what about Bobby? He's sure evergreen stakes will kill this thing, right?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, he's sure."

Once night fell, we made our way back to the Carrigan's house. When we got out, their Christmas decorations were all lit, and they had O Come All Ye Faithful playing.

"They have this playing all night?" I whispered, "I would hate being their neighbor."

Dean bent down and started picking the lock on the front door. "Yeah, 'cause the mysterious neighborhood disappearances wouldn't be a problem..." He looked up at me. "But playing music..." He shook his head. "Worst neighbors."

"All right, grumpy." I smirked. "Pay attention to what you're doing, you don't want to lose a finger."

Sam chuckled softly.

The door popped open as Dean was still looking at me, and he stood up. "See? That's called experience."

Dean and I glared at each other for a second, and then we all walked in with our stakes ready. When we walked further into the house, it was even more "perfect" than I expected. It even contained a plastic-covered couch.

"See? Plastic." Dean shook his head with disapproval.

Sam walked off into another room, and I followed Dean, further into the living room. There were snow globes and Christmas decorations anywhere they could fit.

"Hey," Sam called softly from the other room.

When we followed his voice, we found ourselves in a kitchen with cookies, cakes, and pies on every surface. Sam was waiting for us in front of a doorway that led downstairs into darkness.

We pulled out our flashlights and made our way down the stairs, but I instantly regretted it because there were body parts and blood strewn all over the room. There were giant, red leather bags hanging on hooks with blood dripping out of them.

Dean and I separated from Sam again and investigated more of the room when we heard Sam gasp.

"Sam!" Dean went running with his stake when we saw Madge holding Sam above her head by his neck against the wall.

As Dean tried to stake Madge, Mr. Carrigan grabbed his arm and knocked his head against the wall, knocking him out.

"Dean!" I screamed and looked up at Mr. Carrigan in fear.

He charged me and grabbed me around the neck, dragging me over near Madge and Sam.

"Gosh, I wish you kids hadn't come down here," Madge said in a sweet voice.

The Carrigan's smiled at each other and then smashed our heads against each other, knocking Sam and me out.

I woke up in the Carrigan's kitchen, tied to a chair. I turned to see my brothers tied to chairs as well, our backs to each other.

"You two okay?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, I think so." Dean grunted.

"I guess." I sighed.

Sam sighed. "So, I guess we're dealing with Mr. and Mrs. God."

"Yup," Dean said.

"Nice to know," Sam said sarcastically.

"Yeah," Dean said.

The Carrigan's entered the room excitedly with Christmas sweaters on.

"Oh, and here we thought you three lazybones were gonna sleep straight through all the fun stuff." Madge giggled.

"Miss all this? Nah, we're partiers," Dean joked.

"Isn't he a kick in the pants, honey?" Mr. Carrigan asked as he puffed on his pipe. "You're hunters, is what you are."

"And you're pagan gods. So, why don't we just call it even and go our separate ways?" Dean asked.

"What, so you can bring more hunters and kill us?" Mr. Carrigan laughed. "I don't think so."

"Maybe you should have thought about that before you went snacking on humans now, huh?" Sam asked.

"Oh, now, don't get all wet," Mr. Carrigan said.

"Oh, why, we used to take over a hundred tributes a year, and that's a fact." Madge walked around to the three of us and put a cloth napkin on each of our laps. "Now, what do we take? What? Two? Three?"

"These kids here make six," Mr. Carrigan said.

"Now, that's not so bad, is it?" Madge asked us.

"Well, you say it like that... I guess you guys are the Cunningham's," Dean said.

"You, mister, better show us a little respect," Mr. Carrigan said.

"Or what? You'll eat us?" I asked.

"Not so fast, sassy," Mr. Carrigan said, looking excited. "There's rituals to be followed first."

"Oh, we're just sticklers for ritual." Madge smiled brightly.

"And you know what kicks off the whole shebang?" Mr. Carrigan asked.

"Let me guess... meadowsweet," Dean said.

"Oh!" Madge shouted, excited.

"Oh shucks, you're all out of wreaths. I guess we'll just have to cancel the sacrifice, huh?" Dean asked.

"Oh, don't be such a gloomy Gus," Madge said as she went around and put wreaths around our necks. "There. Oh... don't they just look darling?"

"Good enough to eat," Mr. Carrigan said as he smacked his lips. "All righty-roo." He pulled out a knife. "Step number two." He walked over to Sam with the knife and a wooden bowl.

"Sammy?! Sammy?!" Dean shouted.

"D— Don't!" Sam screamed, and then we heard liquid dripping into the bowl.

Then they walked over to me, put the bowl under my arm, and put the knife to my forearm.

"No, no, no!" I yelled as I twitched around in my seat.

"Leave her alone, you son of a bitch!" Dean yelled.

Then the knife cut into my skin, and I screamed as I watched my blood drip into the bowl.

"Hear how they talk to us? To gods?" Mr. Carrigan asked as they walked over to Dean. "Listen, pal, back in the day, we were worshiped by millions."

"Times have changed!" Dean yelled.

"Tell me about it. All of a sudden, this Jesus character is the hot new thing in town. All of a sudden, our— our altars are being burned down, and we're being hunted down like common monsters," Mr. Carrigan said.

"But did we say a peep? Oh, ho, ho, no, no, no, we did not," Madge said, "Two millennia. We kept a low profile. We got jobs, a mortgage. Wh— What was that word, dear?"

"We assimilated," Mr. Carrigan said.

Madge nodded. "Yeah, we assimilated. Why, we play bridge on Tuesday and Fridays. We're just like everybody else."

"You're not blending in as smooth as you think, lady," Dean said.

"This might pinch a bit, dear," Madge warned and then sliced into Dean's arm too.

"You bitch!" Dean yelled.

"Oh, my goodness me," Madge said as if she was shocked. "Somebody owes a nickel to the swear jar. Oh, do you know what I say when I feel like swearing?" she asked. "'Fudge.'"

"I'll try and remember that!" Dean panted.

Mr. Carrigan picked up pliers and walked over to Sam. "You kids have no idea how lucky you are. There was a time when kids came from miles around, just to be sitting where you are."

"What do you think you're doing with those?" Sam asked panicked.

"You fudging touch me again, and I'll fudging kill you!" Dean yelled at Madge.

"Very good!" Madge praised.

"No, no. Don't," Sam pleaded and then screamed.

"Oh, we got a winner!" Mr. Carrigan yelled.

I looked over to see him standing there with a bloody fingernail clasped in the pliers. He started stirring the nail into the bowl and walked back over to the counter.

"What else, dear?" Madge asked as she walked over to him.

"Well, let's see. Uh, fingernail, blood. Piece of scalp and oh... sweet Peter on a popsicle stick..." He laughed. "I forgot the tooth."

"Oh, dear!" Madge shouted.

"Merry Christmas, guys," Dean said, breathing heavily.

Mr. Carrigan walked over to Dean with the pliers. "Open wide... and say, 'ah.'"

Madge walked over to me with the knife, grabbed a chunk of my hair, and put the knife to my scalp. "Such a beautiful little girl, you're going to make a lovely meal." She laughed sweetly.

"Don't touch her!" Sam yelled through his own pain.

Ding! Dong!

We all paused.

"Somebody gonna get that?" Dean asked, with a mouthful of pliers. "You should get that."

Madge rolled her eyes. "Come on."

They released Dean and me and left the room. I took a deep breath of relief.

We quickly got ourselves untied. Sam went out one door to the kitchen and hid. Dean and I went out the other, we hid behind the door until the Carrigan's returned.

"Now... where were we?" Mr. Carrigan asked as they walked back into the kitchen.

Then we slammed our doors, closing them in the kitchen. They started pounding on the doors, and I opened a drawer to a China cabinet, stopping the door from being opened so we could run over to Sam.

When we reached him, he was still leaning against his door, trying to keep it closed.

"What do we do now? The evergreen stakes are in the basement!" Dean yelled.

"Well, we need more evergreen, Dean!" Sam yelled and then looked past us. "I think I just found us some more."

I looked behind me to see a giant Christmas tree in the corner of the room.

Sam nodded to Dean. "Help me get this."

Then they pushed a massive cabinet in front of the door. We ran over to the tree and pushed it down, and Sam and Dean started breaking branches off of it. As we approached the kitchen, everything fell silent until Mr. Carrigan tackled Dean to the ground.

Madge walked up to Sam. "You little thing." Her face momentarily distorted. "I loved that tree."

As Sam raised his stake, Madge struck him, causing him to lose his branch and sent him into the couch and onto the floor. As Mr. Carrigan continued to punch Dean, I ran up and grabbed the branch off of the floor, and stabbed Madge in the back before she attacked Sam. She cried in pain, but my branch didn't go in enough to kill her, and as she was about to turn around. Sam jumped up and pushed her down onto the branch while I stood my ground, and together, we sent the branch bursting through the front of her chest.

"Madge!" Mr. Carrigan screamed.

Madge groaned and then fell limp and dropped to the floor. Dean took the opportunity to knock Mr. Carrigan off of him and stabbed his branch into his chest. He took the branch out and stabbed him again. Mr. Carrigan groaned and then went limp.

We all stood there, out of breath.

"Merry Christmas." Sam sighed.

When we got back to the motel, Dean said he needed to go out for a bit.

Shortly after he left, Sam said the same thing and left too. I was relieved because I hadn't had the chance to finish Sam's picture, and I had a drawing planned for Dean as well, so I got to work right away.

Almost two hours later, Sam came back and quickly closed the door behind him.

I looked up from putting my finishing touches on Dean's drawing. "Is everything okay?"

Sam nodded and rushed over, setting several bags down on one of the beds. "Yeah, I'm fine, but I need your help really quick."

I hopped up and quickly tucked my drawings away. "What's up?"

"I don't know when Dean is gonna be back, and I want to get this place set up for Christmas," Sam said.

"Really?" I smiled up at him.

Sam shrugged. "Yeah, I've been thinking about it, and you've never really had a Christmas, and it'll be Dean's last chance to have one with you."

I smiled as tears formed, but I quickly shook them off. "Okay, yeah. Let's do this."

Sam and I got to work decorating the room, wrapping our presents, and spiking some of the eggnog just in time for Dean to walk in.

"Hey! You get beer?" Sam asked, holding up a cup of eggnog.

Dean looked around the room, amazed. "What's all this?"

"What do you think it is? It's— It's Christmas." Sam smiled.

"What made you change your mind?" Dean asked.

"Here, uh... try the eggnog." Sam stepped forward and handed Dean a cup. "Let me know if it needs some more kick." He shook a bottle of whiskey.

Dean sipped it, coughed, and then looked surprised at the taste. "No, we're good."

"Yeah?" Sam asked, happily.

Dean smiled. "Yeah."

Sam turned away, and Dean made a face at me like the drink was toxic. I giggled softly.

"Good. Well, uh, have a seat. Let's do... Christmas stuff, or whatever," Sam said and sat down on the couch.

Dean pulled up a chair and looked at our Christmas tree, which was decorated with lights and air fresheners. I sat down on the couch with Sam.

"All right, first things first," Dean said and pulled two packages wrapped in brown paper out of plastic bags. "Merry Christmas. Sam."

Sam smiled and took the gifts. "Where'd you get these?"

"Someplace special." Dean smirked. "The Gas Mart down the street."

Sam laughed.

"Open them up," Dean said.

"Well, great minds think alike, Dean." Sam reached under the couch and handed two packages wrapped in newspaper to Dean and one to me.

"Really?" Dean laughed.

I smiled. "Thanks."

"There you go." Sam smiled.

Dean gestured for Sam to open his gifts. "Come on."

Sam opened his first gift and laughed. "Skin mags!"

Dean nodded, satisfied with Sam's reaction.

"And..." Sam opened the other gift. "Shaving cream."

"You like?" Dean asked.

Sam smiled. "Yeah."

Dean opened his present from Sam. It was a candy bar and a bottle of motor oil. "Look at this. Fuel for me and fuel for my baby." He smiled. "These are awesome. Thanks."

Sam nodded and then turned to me. "Go ahead."

I smiled and then unwrapped my present, revealing a DVD of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. "Aw, awesome. Thanks."

Sam nodded and smiled.

I reached onto the coffee table and grabbed Sam's drawing. I had placed cardboard underneath it so I could wrap it without it bending and folding. I handed it to him, and he smiled.

"You didn't have to," he said.

I shrugged. "I know, neither did you."

Sam unwrapped it to reveal a drawing of himself and me, he was standing in Ravenclaw house robes, and I was standing in Gryffindor house robes. He laughed. "This is great, but I hate to break it to you... you are definitely a Hufflepuff."

"What?!" I shouted. "No way."

Sam nodded and laughed. "I'm pretty sure."

I furrowed my brow. "No!"

Sam laughed. "Yes!"

Dean stood up and walked over to his bag. "Sorry, I hate to break this nerd-off up, but I have something for Maddi that I've been hanging onto for a while." He grabbed something out of his bag and sat back down in his chair. He leaned forward and handed me a small box. "Here you go."

"Thanks." I smiled and opened the box to find a necklace inside. It was a small metal dream catcher with clear crystals dangling off of it.

"Uh, yeah. It's supposed to be for protection, and the crystal quartz is supposed to bring you happiness," Dean said.

My throat tightened, and I felt tears come to my eyes. "Wow, thank you. It's beautiful." I looked up at him, trying to hide the sudden change of my emotions.

"Uh, yeah. No problem." Dean shrugged. "Just thought you would think it was cool or whatever."

We stared at each other for a moment, both of us knew that that wasn't the whole truth.

I cleared my throat. "Uh, here..." I leaned forward and handed him his gift. "I made this for you."

He smiled softly and unwrapped his gift. I had drawn Sam, Dean, and me as photorealistic as I could. I tried to make it look like a candid photo of us happy together.

"Oh, wow. Maddi, this is awesome." He smiled up at me proudly. "You've got talent, kid."

I shrugged. "Thanks."

"No, really..." Dean chuckled, almost in disbelief. "This is really good."

I smiled at him, and the three of us sat in silence for a few moments.

"Everyone happy?" Sam asked.

"Yeah," Dean and I said in unison.

Sam nodded. "Good."

Dean lifted his glass of eggnog. "Merry Christmas."

Sam nodded and lifted his. "Yeah. Yeah."

I lifted my virgin eggnog, and we clanged our cups together.

"Merry Christmas," Sam said.

We were silent after taking our sips, knowing it would be our last Christmas with Dean.

"Hey, Dean, y—" Sam said, but then cleared his throat. "Uh... do you guys feel like watching the game?"

I shrugged and smiled. "Sure."

Dean smiled. "Absolutely."

Sam nodded. "All right." He stood up and turned on the TV to watch some football.