Chapter 5: Yes Boys, There is a Santa Claus!

Sam woke slowly with a feeling of warmth and comfort. The bed was soft and the pillow cushioned his head just perfectly. He felt he was floating on a cloud and even the pain and tenderness in his back weren't enough to ruin the overall feeling of peace his body felt as he lay wrapped up in the Egyptian cotton sheets and the thick and heavy comforter.

He pulled his eyes open and smiled when he saw Dean's sleeping face. Dean was on his side facing Sam and he had the covers bunched up under his chin. Dean must have sensed he was being watched. His eyes flickered open and he gazed at Sam for a minute before rolling over on to his back and stretching out all his limbs. He sighed deeply and then breathed out as he relaxed his muscles.

Both Sam and Dean started when a knock came from their bedroom door.

"Room service," a voice called, and then without waiting for an invitation the door opened and two men carrying bed tables entered the room. Dean pulled himself up quickly, not used to people just walking into their room. He felt vulnerable and exposed, especially since he realized his knife wasn't under his pillow.

Sam sat up as quickly as his stitched back would let him.

"Good morning gentlemen," one of the waiters said and placed one of the tables over Dean's lap. Sam found his own table quickly set down over his legs as well. Two silver covers were removed to show scrambled eggs, sausages, fried potatoes, and buttered toast. Each table also carried a steaming cup of coffee as well as a small glass or orange juice. Then, as if that wasn't enough, a bread basket holding several cinnamon rolls and hot blue berry muffins was put on the night stand. Two news papers appeared like magic and were placed on the bed, one for each of them. Next, the doors to the armoire were opened to reveal a television which was quickly turned on to CNN. The remote control was put down on the bed next to the news papers.

"Do you need anything else?"

"Uh, no, this is good," Dean stammered. He quickly shielded his eyes when the other waiter went to the window and drew back the heavy drapes that covered the picture window.

They just now noticed that their room had a glorious view of the harbor and the boats out on the water. Once again large puffy snowflakes were falling softly creating a perfect Christmas scene outside.

"Merry Christmas," the service man called before the two men left the room and closed the door behind them.

"Okay, that was weird," Dean announced.

"Definitely, but they brought food, so at least it was a good kind of weird."

"I don't think I've ever had breakfast in bed before…at least not like this," Dean smirked.

"What? Eating stale Lucky Charms out of a superman bowl doesn't count?" Sam laughed.

"You know what I mean," Dean chuckled.

"It's strange," Sam said.

"What is?"

"Yesterday it felt like the end of the world. We were broke, hungry, and I was alone at that awful shelter."

"Sam, I already apologized for that," Dean spoke up with a frown.

"No, I know, but the point I'm trying to make is, look at this place. Look at where we are and the food we're eating. One minute we're facing the very real possibility of freezing to death in the middle of the night and the next minute we're being treated like royalty. Like I said, it's strange."

"Strange or not I'm not about to look a gift horse in the mouth," Dean replied.

For the next fifteen minutes they casually ate their breakfast and Dean flipped though the channels. He set the remote down to watch America's Most Haunted Towns on the Travel Channel.

"Dean, its Christmas. Can't you stop thinking about ghosts for just one day?" Sam asked.

"I'm not thinking about ghosts, I'm watching television."

"Television about ghosts," Sam laughed. He grabbed the remote and flipped through the channels and stopped when he found A Christmas Story. "See, this is good. It's festive and funny, and there are no monsters or ghosts."

"I don't know about that," Dean teased. "That kid who plays the bully is pretty freaky if you ask me."

"You just don't like him because he reminds you of Rudy. God, that evil little kid terrorized us for the entire three months we lived in Salem."

"You mean he terrorized you," Dean pointed out. "I had to rescue you from that menace every other day it seemed."

"I remember one fight where he managed to get the better of you and gave you one heck of a shiner."

"That was a fluke. I was trying to see if you were okay since he had just punched you in the nose and you were spewing blood everywhere. He got me while I was distracted."

"Yeah, sure," Sam smirked.

Once Sam finished eating as much as he possibly could he reached over, popped an antibiotic and a pain reliever into his mouth, and swallowed them down with his juice.

"How are you feeling?" Dean asked.

"A lot better than I was yesterday," Sam replied. "The stitches are tight but as long as I don't move too much they don't hurt that badly."

"Well, I want you to just take it easy today. The last thing we need is for you to rip those stitches open."

"What ever you say, mom."

Dean rolled his eyes, grabbed a blue berry muffin, and tore open a packet of butter.

"Where are you putting it?" Sam teased.

"Hey, it's not every day we get to eat like this. The way I see it, we need to gorge ourselves now to prepare for the lean times ahead."

"Dude, you sound like a bear about to hibernate," Sam laughed.

"Go ahead, laugh it up, but you could use a little fattening up," Dean chided.

Sam fluffed his pillows and lay back in the oversized bed. With a full belly once more and the warmth of the heavenly soft blankets still surrounding him he felt his eyes closing and might have fallen back into a contented sleep if there hadn't been another knock on the door.

"Yo," Dean called.

The door opened to reveal the two waiters once more. The men quickly and quietly moved into the room and removed the trays from Dean and Sam's laps but not before refilling their coffee cups and setting them on the bedside tables. The waiters started for the door.

"Excuse me," Dean asked before they could leave.

"Yes, sir?"

"Uh, is this kind of service typical here? I mean, does everyone who stays in the penthouse get treated this well?"

"Only when the service is requested," the waiter told them. "Someone called the kitchen and requested breakfast and wait staff to come up to the room. Was everything satisfactory?" the man asked nervously.

"Yes, everything was great," Dean replied. "Thank you."

"Your welcome, sir." The waiter closed the door and Dean and Sam were alone once more.

"Sam, I believe you when you say we are safe here, and believe me I'm grateful, but I still don't get why this guy took us in and is making a point of spoiling us like we really are his grandsons."

"I think he's lonely," Sam said. "He has no family left. He's old and alone. I think he's really having fun doing this."

"Is that a hunch or your vibes talking?"

"A little of both I think." Sam climbed out of bed. "I'm going to go wash up."

"Don't get your stitches wet."

"Dean, do you know how many times I've had stitches? Believe me, I'm not going to get them wet," Sam griped.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Dean said and flopped back onto his pillows. He might as well get a little more rest while he waited for Sam to take his sponge bath. He had showered last night and he didn't feel the need to take another one right now, which was good since he was eager to have Sam open the gifts he had gotten him.

Another knock on the door had Dean moaning. Didn't this place realize that a bedroom was for sleeping? What were the waiters going to do now? Were they planning on wiping his ass if he took a shit?

"Come in," Dean said, and suddenly sat up a little straighter when Nick actually opened the door.

"Good morning. I trust you and Sam slept well?"

"Yes, yes we did," Dean replied. Actually it was one of the best nights of sleep he had ever had. Even Sam had been nightmare free.

"And how was breakfast?"

"It was great, uh, thank you for doing that. I don't have much money, but I would like to repay you for at least some of the expense we've caused you."

"Nonsense," Nick replied with a wave of his hand. "I have more money than any one person should have and at this stage in my life there is no possible way I can spend it all before I die."

"Uh, okay. Thanks again," Dean said, feeling a little awkward. He was used to making his own way in the world and was unaccustomed to charity.

"I assure you this isn't charity. I have been duly compensated by you and Sam. When Sam is done washing up there are a few surprises for the both of you by the tree."

Before Dean could question the man, Nick pulled the door closed. Dean continued to lie in bed until Sam came out ten minutes later wrapped once more in the plush bathrobe.

"God I feel better," Sam said. "It's so good to be clean."

"So little brother, you ready to open your presents?"

Sam's face lit up into a genuine smile. 'God, he looks like a little kid,' Dean thought and smiled himself.

"Whenever you are," Sam replied.

Dean hopped out of bed and pulled on some sweat pants and a t-shirt. Together the two walked into the living room and once there they stopped and did a double take.

At some point during the night the living room had been transformed. The poinsettias were still there, but now the fireplace was draped in greenery and candles as were all the doorways causing the wonderful scent of pine to fill the room. The three foot tree had been replaced with one about six feet tall and again it was fully decorated. Even more surprising was the large number of gifts that had materialized under the tree, but sitting front and center were the small gifts Dean and Sam had purchased for each other. Their gifts looked terribly out of place in their comic strip wrappings and lopsided bows when compared to the shiny wrapped packages decorated with ribbons and small trinkets.

Further inspection showed that on the coffee table and end tables silver platters had been laid out with small cakes, chocolates, and nuts. From well hidden speakers came the sound of O' Holy Night.

"So boys, do you still think there isn't a Santa Claus?" Nick's cheerful voice asked.

"What is all this?" Sam asked. A simple act of kindness was one thing, but this seemed really over the top.

Dean was also thinking that maybe the old man really was off his rocker. Maybe he really did think they were his long lost grandsons or something. He felt his mistrust and protective instincts kick into over drive.

Nick just shook his head and smiled. "You two boys need to take a breath and calm down. I'm very rich and this isn't over the top for me at all, Sam, and no, Dean, I'm not crazy and I don't think for one minute that you two are really my grandsons."

"Then you really need to explain what's going on here because honestly, this is just a little creepy right now," Dean said, stepping closer to his brother without even thinking about what he was doing. "I mean, you take us in, feed us Christmas dinner, have breakfast in bed sent to us, and now you've bought out an entire department store and put its contents under a tree with our names on it. Who are you and why are you so interested in us?"

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I know I said the last chapter would actually be the last but the story really wasn't finished yet. It still isn't so yes, there'll be at least one more chapter, maybe two. I promise we'll find out Nick's story in the next one.