A/N: I changed the ending of this chapter, to finish this memory in one go. It makes more sense.
Don't own them. Tragic, but true.
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Sam didn't know for sure where they were as they'd done a lot of driving that summer such that he didn't remember all the town names anymore, but he knew when they were, because Dean was standing outside a low slung faded bungalow – likely their most recent temporary abode – and was standing in the warm summer sun lovingly washing and polishing his just that morning, brand new baby: his already beloved 67 Chevy Impala. Dean has seen an ad for the used car in a car magazine months ago and had made an offer. As soon as he'd confirmed that the car could be his, he'd started researching ghosts in Arizona so they could have a reason to go get it sooner rather than later. He'd been talking about this car for two months and they'd finally had a reason to drive to Winslow, maybe, or Flagstaff to pick it up.
Seventeen-year old Dean was wearing a pair of faded and ripped denims and a grey wife-beater that was soaked through with both water and sweat. A plastic bucket and garden hose lay at his feet, discarded in favour of a soft polishing rag. He was grinning broadly and humming – Metallica, what else? – as he worked on his hard-earned treasure.
Neither thirteen-year old Sam, who no longer wanted to be called Sammy, thank you very much, nor John were present at the time. The arid mid-afternoon sun was too hot for any of their neighbours as Dean was the only person braving the heat.
But there were three figures approaching Dean who were apparently unbothered by the heat or by any fear of discovery. They were ghosts: three of them, in broad daylight. It could only be Chris and his siblings.
'Chris' looked remarkably like James Dean in his "Rebel Without A Cause" role. The second ghost, whom Sam assumed was Christmas Present, looked like a female U.S. army soldier, with close-cropped blond hair, an attractive face with high cheek bones and deep-set eyes, and a no-nonsense attitude; she was dressed in desert camouflage gear. But the ghost of what could only be the Christmas Future looked like the stereotypical Grim Reaper-esq ghost clad in a heavy floor length robe complete with a concealing cowl. Whereas Chris looked cool and Christmas Present looked calm and confident, the future ghost just looked creepy.
"This was our first meeting after Dean saved our existences the day before." Chris was as subdued as Sam had seen him as he got ready to watch the memory take shape. Sam tried not to think about the bizarreness of watching a memory of the Ghost of Christmas Past, while standing beside the present-day Ghost of Christmas Past. It was making his head hurt.
He focused on Dean.
Dean had seen the three approaching and stopped what he was doing to straighten up, stretch out muscles cramped from being bent over his precious car, and warily greet the three spirits. Sam was surprised to note that while Dean didn't relax his guard, as the ghosts froze time around them, he didn't try to grab any one of the weapons newly stashed in the spotless 67 Chevy.
"Let me guess which is which: You're Past," pointing to Chris, "you're Present," pointing to the female lieutenant, "and you must be Christmas Future."
"Actually his name is technically 'The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come' but most people have forgotten that, so Christmas Future will suffice." Even ten years ago Chris was more than a little sanctimonious.
"Whatever. Hey! Future-dude – step away from the car! I don't have it fully warded yet and I don't want you glitching my engine."
"He wasn't going to touch your car, he just wanted a closer look, he's a classic car buff, although why he is, as it takes so much concentration to actually ride in one, I'll never know." The Ghost of Christmas Present rolled her translucent eyes and shook her head in fond exasperation at her younger brother.
"A Ghost with good taste. Finally. Most of your kin are angry assholes who don't have the sense to stay dead. You can take a closer look as long as you keep your ghostly mitts off my baby."
"No, we're here on a brief mission to hopefully repay the favour and then we're off. The Ghost of Christmas Present saw what you did this morning, and The Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come doesn't want you to endanger your future."
"Oh he doesn't does he? And does the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come have anything to say for himself?"
"Obviously you're not up on your Dickens, are you?" Chris sniped at Dean who was rapidly losing his cool with the three mega-moniker-ed manifestations. Before Dean could reply to Chris' rhetorical question, the smug spirit continued. "The Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come can't speak. It's in all the adaptations and plays and TV Christmas episodes. He knows the future but can't speak it, can only point to the images and inspire enough fear of those images to motivate the previously unrepentant to mend their ways.
"Are you sure you scored 1540 on your SATs?"
"Dean scored 1540 on his SATS? I didn't even know he'd ever even taken his SATs! I don't recall him studying for them, and I'm sure his marks were never that high!"
Current Chris looked at Sam and wondered if Sam was threatened by the confirmed knowledge that he wasn't the only smart one in the family. Part of Dean's adopted persona, part of his way of charming and manipulating those he needed information from was to camouflage his intelligence: you could learn a lot while pretending to be dumb. And scholastically, there were many memories that Chris could show Sam of Dean taking care of Sammy after school until their father came home and then trying to get his homework done before John and Dean went out on a hunt (often leaving Sammy locked in their motel room or in the car); memories of Dean being too tired to finish assignments or injured and missing tests, or just unable to concentrate in school because of all the things a normal unburdened kid never had to worry about, often including where their father was, how to make their money last, trying to learn enough and practice enough and be tough enough to keep himself and his brother and father safe from the things that go bump in the night..
But Chris knew that Dean wouldn't want him to show Sam anything that would just pile needless guilt on Sam for being a burden. Because what Chris was trying to show Sam was that Dean didn't see it as a burden. Ok, sometimes when he was a teenager and he wanted to go out rather than be stuck with a whining eleven-year old, but for the most part Dean felt blessed, not burdened, by Sammy.
Now if he could just get Sammy to believe…
Of course, Dean, having learned to be strong enough and tough enough, also learned to lock his emotions away, and could never say that, could never just come out and explain himself to Sam. There were still things about each other that for all their incredible closeness, neither brother really understood. Chris was hoping to rectify that. Because Dean was now primarily a hunter, and in order to hunt you had to think first, act fast and get the job done. And emote never. Or at least save the processing of the fear and terror for such a time as no one could see you lose it. Especially not your younger brother who still looked up to you – not as blindly as he'd done when he was younger – and your father who expected you to be strong and unbending.
Sam was still sputtering beside him. "He could have gotten into any number of universities with that score, he could have gotten a scholarship somewhere. If he hadn't used his money to buy the Impala…"
Chris loved watching the lightbulb moments, the dropping of the penny, the slow dawning of knowledge into an unwilling subconscious.
"He checked his scores first, and then went to finally pay for and take possession of the car. He knew he could use the money to get out, to go to school and he didn't. He bought that damn car. He could have…"
"Sam! Getting out, going to school was your dream. It was never Dean's. I suspect that he only took his SATs out of curiosity to see how he'd do. I believe that he was figuring he wouldn't do very well and he'd use that as an excuse to not go. He'd made his decision long before he'd got his results back."
"He decided not to go because of me. Because of me and Dad and how we couldn't get along without him." Sam was angry again, and not listening.
"Yes, you and your father certainly factored into his decision, but you weren't the only reason."
Sam glowered at Chris, and crossed his arms, unable to see this as anything other than a dream-crushing blow.
"Oh just shut up and watch would, you? Everything is not about you!"
Around them the memory continued.
Dean just looked that the presumptuous spirits for a brief moment, nonplussed that they knew both his score and his decision.
Then he exploded: "Listen 'Chris'! You may think you're so smart, and you may think you know everything there is to know about being a ghost – sorry, metaphysical manifestation of a literary creation, brought to life by the public's overwhelming belief in your existence – but if you knew anything at all, asshole, you'd know that as a being based on belief, the only thing keeping Silent Bob here silent is the fact that no one believes he can talk. Well I believe he can talk, I believe he was just waiting for the right person to talk to, and I believe that if his supposedly know-it-all brother would just shut up and listen for once, you'd find out that Bobby has a lot to say!"
The three spirits looked at each other in stunned silence. Was it really that simple? And could the utter belief and conviction of one bull-headed young man really be enough to make a difference? The newly-christened 'Bob' slowly took off the cowl to reveal a thin, intelligent face with thick black hair and a stern, noble bearing. He dramatically took a deep breath in…
"You rock, dude! I can talk! Bloody marvelous! Gods having to be quite for the last hundred and fifty years while these two constantly misinterpret what I'm trying to say. This is fabulous!" The stern visage had melted away to be replaced by a much younger looking, infinitely more mischievous face of young rap star. Bob now looked like a young Will Smith in his early rap days, now dressed in colorful overly large clothes.
"Dean's right, bro, you really need to learn how to lighten up. Relax, take a load off." 'Bob' made some classic rap dance moves, and looked like he was about to start rhyming. Fortunately, for all concerned, he relented. "Seriously, Chris, you keep making all the decisions and then overriding 'Missy' and me when we try to object. And poor 'Missy' often gets caught in the middle between what both of us want."
"Missy?" the ghost formerly known as Christmas Present, raised an elegantly arched eyebrow at her brother.
"Hey if it works. I mean you seem to prefer manifesting as female, and most people pronounce it kriss-MISS anyway…"
'Missy' smiled at 'Bob'. "Ok, 'Bob', you win."
As one both siblings turned on 'Chris'.
Before they could pounce Dean took pity on them. "Hey, don't take it out on Chris. Ok, so I don't know dick about Dickens, but I don't remember ol' Charlie saying anything about your relationships to each other. Chris, here is just doing his best to take on the big brother role. And he's finding out that it's not as easy as I make it look." Dean gave his audience one of his trademark cocky grins. "And Bobby, while you likely feel undervalued and over-protected as the baby, and whatever other gripes the baby of the family might have, it means you've got two peo… er, beings looking out for you. And you guys both need to take care of Missy. I'm betting the reason she prefers to be a woman is because she wants to stand out from you two.
"And because she's totally hot as a woman!"
Here Dean flashed his 'women want me and I know it' grin at Missy and she proved that it wasn't only living breathing women who weren't immune to this particular Winchester's charm.
Actually Bob swooned a bit too.
Dean hastily continued on with his impromptu lesson.
"The three of you need to learn to hear each other. In my family both my brother and father are above average at talking, but below average at listening. Me I'm below average on talking, slightly better than average at listening. There are times I swear they both have selective hearing. Trust me it works way better when you can do both."
And Dean, belatedly realizing that he had ventured perilously close to a chick flick moment and with a trio of virtual strangers no less, suddenly shut up and became interested in polishing his car top. His brand new car top, his baby. His broad gin of unfiltered joy and pride threatened to re-appear. He was trying to remain smooth and cool in front of his new… friends… but it wasn't working.
It was funny but he instinctively trusted these three and had from the first moment he met them yesterday when they were trapped in an amateur but effective poltergeist trap. He'd freed them after studying them each briefly. He'd trusted them. It was that simple.
Chris, Missy and Bob watched Dean polish needlessly for a moment or two, collectively stunned at the simple wisdom this tenacious teenager had imparted. It was easy to forget he was only seventeen: Dean seemed much older. Bob suspected that Dean never got carded in bars or when buying liquor or beer.
Sam glanced over at Chris who was now smiling fondly at his earlier self and siblings. He got that Chris was trying to show him that Dean was smarter than he usually gave him credit for, and it was nice that Dean's unstinting belief gave Bob a voice, although how one person's belief thwarted a century and a half of disbelief Sam didn't know. Ok, granted it was Dean's belief, and when Dean believed in something or someone, like their father, for instance, his beliefs were pretty absolute, so maybe, but none of this told him why Dean had never gone to college and why he had wasted an opportunity to get out. How could he not want more than this fucked up life, how could he not want to get away and do something for himself for once.
He sighed impatiently and asked: "Does any of this have a point?"
"Yes there's a point. The reason we approached your brother in the first place was because 'Bob' was worried about Dean's future. The point of our ghostly existence is to offer people a chance to change their future, and while usually we each work as a solo act, this wasn't strictly speaking a full 'True Meaning of Christmas' deal, it was more of a we can let you go back and change one decision kind of deal. Dean's decision to definitely buy the car and not go to college meant that he'd shorten his lifespan significantly: he wasn't going to die in the next year or so, but by the same token he wouldn't live to see thirty.
"And we told him that. After a discussion between Bob and Dean about cars – and no, Bob couldn't talk to anyone else other than us and Dean – no one else has Dean's unwavering faith –Bob showed Dean his own grave marker, complete with the exact date of his death. It's not my place to show you Dean's future, but I can show you the rest of the conversation. Here."
And the memory they were watching faded out momentarily and faded in again. Bob now looked likea blonde Californian surfer, but was wearing his long robe over top of his vibrant Hawaiian shirt and baggy swim trunks. But in spite of his flamboyant clothes he was silently somber as he watched Dean contemplate his own certain death.
"So that's the day I die, hun?" Dean was trying to play it cool, but Sammy knew his brother too well and could see that Dean was severely rattled by the unwanted knowledge. "And what does this have to do with me buying my car? I'm not taking it back. And I'm not giving up hunting. I'm not leaving my father and brother out there to fend for themselves – if something happened to Sammy or Dad cause I wasn't there…" Dean didn't finish the sentence, but the "I'd hate myself for the rest of my life" was understood by all watchers. The look in Dean's previously unreservedly happy countenance was now overshadowed by a worried and guilt laden look that Sam only saw when Dean's guard was down.
"We can offer you the chance to reset time and to go back to before you handed over the money for the car and give yourself a different future, a longer future. Your future won't necessarily be miserable if you don't go to college, but you're limiting yourself. Don't you want more?"
Sam leaned forward eagerly. He couldn't wait to hear the answer to Chris' questions. Here was the information he wanted to know. Cause honestly? He'd never got it. Never understood how Dean could have passed up this chance.
"You just don't get it. None of you do. Maybe I didn't have a choice about hunting; maybe I would have liked to have had a life where we didn't move schools every two months; maybe I 'd like to not have had to take care of my brother every day of my life. But you know what? I didn't have a choice and sure a lot of it sucked, but the way we live means we're closer than most families I know. Being so focused on one goal may seem limiting, but me and Sammy have learned how to take care of ourselves in almost any situation. And while most people couldn't do what we do, many people in this world never find something to do that they're good at, that they know is worthwhile and that they enjoy doing. Don't you get it? I like hunting. I like being good at it, I like figuring it out, I like being able to kill the monsters that other people don't even know exist. I can kill the sons-of-bitches, I can keep my family safe, and no one else can do what we do.
"And I like that this means I get to stay with my family longer. I have no desire to go to college at all. Hunting means that you never know when one of the monsters might get lucky and take one of out, so I'm going to take every minute I can with my brother and father, and work as hard as I can to make sure it doesn't happen. I never regretted taking care of Sammy. Yes, he can be a pain in the ass, and yes, I could have used some more free time, but Sammy is my brother. I lo… I… He's the most important person in my world and I like being his big brother. I like having someone to look out for, and if I can keep him and my dad safe, then that's good enough for me.
"I'm not not going to college because I can't, or even because my family needs me – which they still do – but because there's nothing that college is going to teach me about ridding the world of pain-in-the-ass poltergeists or getting rid of vampires or werewolves. I've found what I want to do, and nothing in any fancy university is going to make me any better at it."
Dean paused to regard his well-meaning but misguided ghosts and looked squarely at Bobby as he continued.
"And trying to scare me into giving it up, won't work. It'll happen when it happens and if that means that I only have twelve more years left, then I'll cram as much time with my family and as many dead demons in as I can. And I'll do it in a kick ass car!
"So, thanks but no thanks."
And Dean, who rarely felt compelled to justify himself to anyone, living or otherwise, calmly went back to buffing his baby.
Both the three ghosts in the memory and the two current-day watchers were stunned silent. It was a lot to take in.
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TBC