The thing about dying, dying from blood loss that is, is that it dosen't really hurt. It's cold. It gets hard to think. But there is an awareness that you should be hurting but the shock and adrenalin keep the pain from registering and all you can do is choke on your own blood, look up at the kid who is desperatly trying to keep your blood in your body and recognize him.

"You. Again."

"Yeah, it's been a while." the kid replies, looking terrified but trying to hide it and think about how you've scarred him for life now, and not in a good way, because he's going to watch you die.

You try to speak again, but talking has become very diffecult.

"Scared." you say.

"Don't be okay? You're going to be fine." The kid doesen't really seem to believe his own words and you kind of want to laugh because you were trying to tell him not to be scared but you can't because it's so hard to even breathe, and the Batman is there and he tries to comfort you.

"Paramedics are on their way. You're going to be alright."

And he looks just a bit guilty, like it's his fault the Joker was able to hurt you and you want so badly to tell him that you get it now. The Joker can't die. Not yet. Time itself says so and you can only change time just so much. But you can't speak and your vision getting blurry. Then there are lights and sirens and voices and you're being moved. You don't remember going from the ambulance into the hospital, but suddenly you're there and there are bright lights and more voices shouting and ever-y-thing... ju-st... go-es qu-iet... a-nd... s-t-o-p-s.


Something laughs in the darkness. Calling "you should have listened, you should have let go" into the blackness.


Bree woke up in a white room. White wall, white floors, white drapes, white sheets on the bed. She was sore, mostly in her back, left side, and stomach, and it was taking a very long time for her to get her thoughts together and figure out where she was. The headache inducing smell of antiseptic, the beep beep beep of the heart monitor that made her head throb and the IV attached to her arm should have made it obvious but her thoughts are moving too slowly.

"Oh good, you're awake." Someone said after entering the room. "We had to put the antidote in your IV because giving it to your directly would have been too much of a shock after everything that you've been though."

It took longer than she would have liked, but Bree managed to string a sentence together.

"What happened?"

"Well," the person (female, wearing scrubs, why was it so hard to focus) began awkwardly. "You died."

Bree stared blankly.

The woman pulled a wand out of her pocket and began running diagnostic spells, frowmimg as she did so.

"You're heart stopped over on the non-magical side of the hospital. They got it beating again, but our guys stepped in and got the draught of living death into your system to put your body into a kind of stasis so we could heal you without having to worry about you bleeding out on us. We were even able to send you down to the morgue for a bit so Batman could see his corpse. It was a little tricking getting your cells to divide when your entire body was shut down like that, but we managed. It'll be tender for awhile though, and it'll scar, but you're alive." She said, mostly talking to herself since Bree was still a bit out of it, but she hear a certain word.

"What was that about a corpse?"

"I think it's best if I let Mr. Cartwright explain that." The woman replied. "I'll go let him know you're awake."


"We had to let Batman see a body." Cartwright explained after Bree's mind had cleared up. "He's remarkably persistant and would not had left you alone until he'd proven your connection to Redline and forced you to testify against your Aunt."

"Batman is not a good enough reason to let everyone I know think I'm dead." Bree replied.

"No, it isn't but Bane on the other hand..." Cartwright trailed off.

Bree scoffed. "Bane is terrified of me. I made sure of that."

"Yes, but you also humiliated him and his pride won out over fear. He won't act against you directly but he has been trying to hire an assasin from the League of Shadows and you already have enough problems from the Death Eaters without the addition of someone competant after you." Cartwright told her.

Bree blinked. "Oh... that's a pretty good reason. And I guess the Death Eaters won't really come after me anymore if they think I'm dead."

"They won't think that for long. The Malfoy family still owes you a life debt, correct?" Cartwright asked.

"Yeah." Bree said, not really seeing what Cartwright was trying to say.

"Once your death is reported it is highly likely they'll check to see who it is they owe, but since you're not actually dead..." Cartwright waited for her to make the connection.

"It'll still show up as me." she finished.

"Exactly." Cartwright agreed. "And there's more."

Bree scowled. "Of course there is."

"How many times have you been under the Cruciatus?" Cartwright asked.

Bree shurgged. "I don't know, but I have medicine to take care of the after effects."

"Not completely." Cartwright said.

"No, not completely, but it's not like I've been under it that much." Bree replied.

Cartwright frown. "It is a powerful and dark curse. If you're under it even once it can drive you insane if held for too long. The curse causes pain by directly effecting the nervous system. Repeated exposure, even if it's treated after every time, can cause permenant neurological damage that worsens after every hit. Diagnostic spells have revealed the first signs of damage in you. It might not be too noticable now but if you keep getting hit it will get worse."


A little know fact about Polyjuice Potion is that the drinker can tell what kind of personality the person they want to turn into has just by taste. A mass murdering pyshcopath would taste like roadkill left outside in Death Valley during the hottest part of the year and then marinated in skunk juice for another two days: so foul you want to puke just looking at it. The nicest kindest nun on the planet would have the flavor of stawberries and angel food cake: light, sweet and guilt free. Someone who was charming and polite to your but then went and stabbed you in the back would be like a sickly sweet lemonade with a disgusting aftertaste: it might fool you at first an then suprise with it's true colors.

Bree happened to have downed a spicy-sweet polyjuice with a bit of bite at the end. Cartwright had presented her with a silver flask decorated with a Roman numeral three inside of a laurel wreath. It was kind of like a coded message, the three representing the Third Option, and laurel wreaths had been given to the victors in the ancient Greek Olympics. It was a silent promise. We will win.

Cartwright had found her disguises creative but lacking. Hair dye, color contacts, and wardrobe changes might throw the Death Eaters off a bit, but the features of her face could not be easily hidden without a mask or magic. So he got her several bigger on the inside flasks of polyjuice, each one decorated differently, that would change her into someone that worked for the company so she could still function as a debt collector.

Bree watched in fasination as her skin changed from a pale tan to a rich chocolate color. She gain bodyfat in all the right places, gaing more curves than she'd had before she'd lost weight on her "run." Her lips were a little fuller, her jawline, cheekbones, and nose unfamiliar, eyes a light brown, hair darker and thicker.

It was odd, looking into the mirror and seeing someone completely different. She wondered what the Doctor felt every time he became a "new man" because new teeth? That's just weird.

Shauna was the name of the face she was wearing. She worked as an assistant to the debt collecters by gathering information. Men like to talking to beautiful women, they tell them things, hand out phone numbers and hotel keys which makes it a lot easier to keep tabs on a debtor that's being evasive.

It had started snowing in Gotham, falling in large wet flakes that turned to slush when they landed. Bree, as Shauna, was wearing a stylish black coat, thick, but fitted to Shauna's body, with military accents, dark skinny jeans, red leather boots embossed with a spiraling leaf pattern and her red bandana as a head wrap. Her perception filter was hidden under her sleeve and she was checking a women's rolex made from rose gold often. Everyone around her was checking the time frequently as well since she was at the Gotham's Central Station and the trains were running late thanks to Mister Freeze covering the rails in ice so he steal something or other that was being transported by train.

There were a couple of boys running around and roughhousing, one of them bumped into Bree. She grabbed him and twisted his arm, forcing him to drop the silver flask that he had taken from her coat pocket. The other kid disappeared into the crowd.

"Ow, ow! I'm sorry lady just let me go!" the boy exclaimed. A few people looked up at the noise but no one did anything, then again it was Gotham.

"Kid, you've got to pick you're marks better." Bree stated. Relaxing her hold a bit but still keeping a firm hold. "Keep an eye on body laungauge, always look for a gun and never pickpocket someone from a crime family unless you want to get shot. You're lucky my boss has a soft spot for kids."

The boy stared up at her as she looked him over. Dark hair, threadbare clothes, overly skinny, he was a member of Gotham's poor and desperate, most likely destined for a life as a low level mook. She remembered one of the proposed plans for getting her out of Gotham, it hadn't really gone anywhere but she had met a the guy in charge of shipping in Gotham.

"Listen up, if you want to earn some money with less risk of getting shot go down to the docks, warehouse five. Ask for Sven. Tell him Shauna the second sent you." She instructed before letting the boy go. He ran off.


Sam and Dean spent a lot of time hunting, leaving Alice to do whatever she wanted in dingy motel rooms. Mostly she exploited the "banking glitch" when she could find a magical district with a bank and a pawn shop in the city or town they where staying in. Of course Sam and Dean would have become supicious of any magical titles so she disguised the was usually the one buying dinner in cash, since she didn't really approve of identy theft and credit card fraud.

"You know I'm getting a little worried." Dean said around a mouthful of burger that Alice had paid for. They were in another crappy motel room with two beds. Sam and Dean got one bed while Alice got the other because warding two rooms for one night really would have been too much work.

"Don't talk with your mouth full." Sam and Alice said at the same time. They looked at each other.

"You remember Dean choking?" Sam asked.

"Yep." Alice replied. Sam went back to looking for a case on his laptop as Alice took a bite of her chicken sandwhich.

Dean swallowed his food. "How many Tuesdays did you two have?"

"The answer to that depends on your view of time and requires a lot of math, a team of physicists, and decades of debate to answer." Alice replied. "Now what were you saying you were worried about?"

"Right, I've noticed that you've been paying for everything lately." Dean began. "Food, motel, gas."

Alice looked incredulous. "Well, I just thought that you're too pretty to go to prison, but if you really want to risk it I guess I could just pay for myself from now on."

"It's not that. Really we appriciate it, but it just seems like the money never runs out and you don't really have a job so..." Dean trailed off.

"It's not like I just sit in dirty motel rooms and wait for you to come back." Alice told him. "I go out and explore and sometimes I pick up a little money. What's wrong with that?"

"Other than the thing that wants you dead?" Dean quetioned retorically.

"Harvey said he'd take care of it." Alice replied.

"Harvey is a trickster, do you really think we can trust him." Dean asked.

"He went to all the trouble of bending time to make me. He's not going to let me die, at least not until I do whatever that let's him live." Alice pointed out. "Now can you tell me what you're problem with me making money is?"

"I'm just worried about how you're making that money." Dean responded. At this point Sam had dropped all pretense of doing research and was watching Dean and Alice over the computer.

Alice gave Dean a flat look. "Are you trying to ask if I'm a whore?"

Dean looked flustered. "I wouldn't use that term exactly, maybe, uh, lady of the night?"

"I exploit a loophole in the banking system to get a lot of money with very little effort on my part." Alice explained.

"That dosen't sound legal." Sam commentted.

Alice shrugged. "In the UK I'd go to jail because way back when, someone found the loophole, became a millionare, and nearly sunk the economy. That hasn't happened yet here so it's pretty easy to take advantage of if you're careful and don't draw attention to yourself. Most people don't know about it so no one's passed a law yet."

"How does it work?" Sam asked.

"Next time we're in a big city I'll show you. It's a little hard to explain and requires actually walking into the bank." Alice replied.


Alice was, once again, waiting for Sam and Dean in a crappy hotel room in Ypsilanti, Michigan while reading Which Witch is Which?: Identifying Demonic "Gifts". The book would have been required for her last year of Defense Against the Dark Arts if she had returned to the Insitute for her final year. If she studied enough she would be able to get something like a G.E.D, so she had been picking up used books in the magical shopping district and spending

Sam and Dean were out posing as FBI agents and investigating the dispearence of a man from his locked house. When they did come back Sam got to work researching lore and Dean only stayed long enough to change out of his suit before heading out to gather more information.

Alice sat on one of the beds, reading through a small stack of books,while Sam worked at the coffee table, glancing up every once and a while. At one point he got up and stretched before moving towards Alice's bed and picking up one of the books on the stack.

"Effective Exorcisms? You're not thinking of becoming a hunter, are you?" Sam questioned.

Alice looked up from the book she was reading, Shielding Spells and How to Use Them, glad that she'd disguised most of her books with illusions. The book Sam was holding was actually called Effective Exorcisms and Purging Spells.

"No, but since I was apparently created to stop the apocalypse I figured I'd better study up." she replied.

"You know you could have just asked one of us to teach you." Sam told her.

"I don't think so. Dean doesn't really like me." Alice said.

Sam winced. "Dean... just isn't sure about you. He doesn't remember all the Tuesdays, so you're pretty much a stranger to him. It'll get better."

Alice shrugged and went back to her book. Sam stood there awkwardly for a moment before putting Effective Exorcisms and Purging Spells back on top of the stack and going back to his computor. Dean walked in sometime later, putting a bag down on the dining table next to the window.

"So, was I right? Is it the serial-killing chimney sweep?" Dean asked.

"Yep. It's, uh, it's actually Dick Van Dyke." Sam replied.

Dean looked confused. "Who?"

"Mary Poppins?" Sam tried.

"Who's that?" Dean questioned.

"Oh come on." Sam waved it off. "Never mind."

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

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

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

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

"Yeah?" Dean said.

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

"We have a doppleganger sitting in our room reading books." Dean pointed out. "What could you possibly say that sounds crazy to me?"

Alice looked up from her book, annoyed.

"Um… evil Santa." Sam answered.

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

"Yeah… I mean, I'm just saying that there's some version of the anti-Claus in every culture." Sam explained, picking up a stack of pictures and showing them to Dean. "You got Belsnickel, Krampus, Black Peter. Whatever you want to call it, there's all sorts of lore."

"Saying what?" Dean asked as he exaimined to pictures.

"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 responded.

Dean looked skeptical. "By hauling their ass up chimneys?"

"For starters, yeah." Sam replied.

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

"Well, ah – I'm just saying, that's what the lore says." Sam defended weakly.

"Santa doesn't have a brother. There is no Santa." Dean replied.

"Yeah, I know. You're the one who told me that in the first place, remember." Sam told him, before sighing. "Yeah, you know what, I could be wrong. I gotta be wrong."

"Maybe, maybe not." Dean said.

"What?" Sam said.

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

"Where?" Sam asked.

"Some Christmasy tourist trap." Dean replied.

Sam stood up. "Let's go check it out."

Alice snickered.

"What?" Dean demanded.

Alice grinned. "You two are going to go to some sugar filled Christmas town without a kid and just walk around? Someone is going to call the cops about two creepy guys scaring the kids."

"Do you have a better idea?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, I do actually." Alice replied. "I'll need a notebook and a pencil."


It cost ten bucks a person to get into the roadside Santa's Village that would have been quaint if not for the worn and chipped paint. Alice was walking just ahead of Sam and Dean while scribbling somthing in a notebooks.

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

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

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

"Have one what?" Sam asked.

"A Christmas." Dean answered.

Sam scoffed. "No, thanks."

"No, we'll get a tree, a little Boston market, just like when we were little." Dean told him.

"Dean, those weren't exactly Hallmark memories for me, you know." Sam replied.

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

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

"I bet Alice would like a Christmas." Dean replied.

"Yeah, a normal Christmas with her family." Sam replied.

"Hey Alice!" Dean called.

Alice turned. "There's no need to be so loud I'm right here."

"What were you're Christmases like growing up?" Dean asked.

Alice frowned. "Two years ago I stayed while my parents went to a family get together and pretended I didn't exist because I'm not supposed to, got a friend of mine to go visit his father in the hospital, hung out in the cafeteria, and got mistaken for Bree. Christmas after that I just stayed at my mostly boarding school because on of Bree's cousins decided to have a Christmas wedding and I couldn't go."

"Okay, but what about Christmases before that?" Dean pressed.

Alice laughed. "Dean, two Christmases is all I've got. I've only been alive for two years."

"What, seriously?" Dean asked.

Alice nodded, looking uncomfortable.

"So Sam, what exactly are we looking for?" she asked.

"Um, lore says that the anti-Claus will walk with a limp and smell like sweets." Sam answered.

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

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

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

"I don't know." Sam answered.

They found the Santa of the Santa's villiage, an old man in a red suit wearing a fake beard over his real beard. A woman in an elf costume approached them.

"Welcome to Santa's court. Can I escort your child to Santa?" she asked.

"No. No. Uh, but actually my brother here," Dean said, patting Sam on the shoulder. "it's been a lifelong dream of his."

The elf stared. "Uh, sorry. No kids over… twelve."

"Ignore them." Alice interjected, smiling disarmingly. "Dean's just being an ass. My brothers and I are heading home for Christmas, and I'm a travel writer. I'm working on a book about roadside attractions that make the trip from A to B more fun. Dean didn't really want to stop, but I promised to cover the gas bill. Dosen't really stop him from trying to make trouble though."

She shrugged in a "what can you do" sort of way.

The elf relaxed. "Oh, alright. I'll be happy to answer any questions you might have."

"I'll be sure to do that, thanks!" Alice said brightly. The elf left to help a family with children. Alice's smile dropped.

"And that's how you do it." she told Dean, scribbling in her notebook some more.

"Yeah, yeah. You're still covering the gas bill right?" Dean joked.

Santa got up and headed off to his lunch break. He walked with a pronounced limp.

"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 stated.

"Could just be an old war vet who went heavy on the sweets and let himself go." Alice suggested.

"Maybe. Are we willing to take that chance?" Dean questioned.


"You were right." Sam said when he got back from checking out the old man's place with Dean.

"Yeah, I know. I looked into while you were away." Alice stated. "He fought in Vietnam, there's a tiny piece of shrapnel lodged in his knee from the same operation that got most of his unit killed. He's shown signs of PTSD and survivors guilt but wasn't able to get treatment so he started drinking. His wife left him, and he hasn't seen his children of grandchildren in years."

"Well. Now I feel guilty." Dean commented.

Alice shrugged. "He could be better off, but he could also be worse."


The next day Sam and Dean went out as FBI since another man had been taken up the chimney. Alice went out on her own for a while and didn't get back until after Sam and Dean had finished interviewing witnesses.

"Where have you been?" Dean questioned when Alice walked in. The brothers were doing more research and Sam was on the phone with someone.

"I had stuff to do." Alice replied.

"Like what?" Dean asked.

Alice shrugged. "Like not sitting in a motel room, bored to tears?"

"Yeah well, next time leave a note so we know you weren't snatched by demons or something." Dean said.

"Well… we're not dealing with the anti-Claus." Sam declared after he got off the phone.

"What did Bobby say?" Dean asked.

"That we're morons." Sam answered. "He also said that it was probably meadowsweet in those wreaths."

Alice started rifling through her bag until she found a certain book with a green cover.

"Wow! Amazing." Dean said sacastically as Alice flipped through the book. "What the hell is meadowsweet?"

"It's pretty rare and it's probably the most powerful plant in pagan lore." Sam answered.

"Pagan lore?" Dean questioned.

"Yeah. See, they used meadowsweet for human sacrifice. It was kind of like a… Chum for their gods. Gods were drawn to it and they'd stop by and snack on whatever was the nearest human." Sam explained.

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

"It's not really that unusual. It's also called bridewort, it was used in churches for festivals and weddings and was made into bridal garlands." Alice explained.

"How do you know that?" Dean asked suspiciously.

"It's in the book." Alice answered, showing Dean the page she was reading from.

"Meadowsweet. Used to flavor wine and beer and as a natural pain reliever. Favorite herb of the first Queen Elizabeth." Dead read out loud, skimming over a lot of information. "There's a hand written note in the margin. Keep out of your home around the winter solstice."

"Makes sense. Christmas started out as a pagan winter solstice festival that the church adopted." Sam stated.

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

"Christmas was a part of the church's plan to absorb pagan elements in order to get converts." Alice explained, taking her book back from Dean.

"How do you know that? What are you gonna tell me next? Easter bunny's Jewish?" Dean asked sacastically

"Nope. Pagan." Alice corrected before sitting on her bed and getting another book to read.

"Swell." Dean replied. "So we're dealing with a pagan god?"

"Yeah, probably Hold Nickar, God of the winter solstice." Sam replied.

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

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

"Great." Dean muttered.

Sam continued reading from his laptop. "Huh… When you sacrifice to Hold Nickar, guess what he gives you in return."

"Lap dances, hopefully." Dean stated.

"Mild weather." Sam said.

Dean looked out the window. "Like no snow in the middle of December in the middle of Michigan."

"For instance." Sam replied.

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

"No, Bobby's working on that right now."Sam answered. "We got to figure out where they're selling those wreaths."

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

"Let's find out." Sam said.


Alice and Sam walked into the store that had sold the wreaths. It was full of holiday decorations. Dean was tired of being mistaken for gay and in a relationship with Sam, so he waited in the car.

"Help you, two?" the balding shopkeeper asked.

"Yes, you see we were at the Walsh's for game night the other day and they had this Christmas wreath that Sam just loved. They said they'd gotten it here." Alice replied, smiling.

"I sell a lot of wreaths." The shopkeeper stated.

"Well, this one was kind of different, Had a real sweet smell and had green leaves with white buds. What was it you said was made out of, sweetie, meadowsweet?" Alice said the last part to Sam.

"Uh, that's right... sweetie." he replied

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

Alice pouted. "Oh, do you know who made them?"

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


"You know, it's kind of nice not to have people think I'm gay." Dean commented after Alice and Sam had gone back to the Impala. "You don't get anywhere with the ladies if they think you're gay."

"Yeah, well, I think it's just as awkward as having someone think you're in a relationship with someone that's technically two." Sam replied.

"I've been alive for two years, but I have the mind and body of a seventeen year old." Alice put in.

"That dosen't help. No matter how you slice it you're still underage." Sam replied.

Alice shrugged. "I'll either be three or eighteen at the end of next June, depending on how you look at it."

"Someday we're going to have a talk about how this doppleganger thing actually works, because this is just weird." Dean stated.


"How much do you think a meadowsweet wreath would cost?" Dean asked as they entered the motel room.

"Not much. It's pretty common, often used for homeopathic remedies, pot pourri, and Scandinavian mead." Alice replied.

Dean stared at her.

Alice sniffed. "I read the entire entry on meadowsweet, not just the bulletpoints, and I think you've got it wrong."

"We've got what wrong?" Sam questioned.

Alice smirked. "Like I said, this stuff is common, if it were really attracting bloodthirsty gods there would be a bodies piling up all over. So maybe it isn't attracting them, maybe they just like it and are paying attention to which families buy the wreaths so they can be sure it's around when they attack. And it's not just the meadowsweet. Whatever it is following the same pattern everytime. Adult male, dragged up the chimney, every single time. It's kind of interesting, human serial killers do pretty much the same thing, follow a pattern that is. They all have a set of rules that must to followed for every kill."

"Yeah, we dealt with a family of those once." Dean replied.

Alice looked curious, but didn't ask.


The Carrigan's lived in a big white house with a yard full of Christmas decorations. The woman at the door had Rosy cheeks and prefectly curled gray hair.

Alice smiled. "Are you the Madge Carrigan that makes the meadowsweet wreaths?"

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

"Oh that's to bad." Alice replied. "You know, I was wondering, why did you decide to make them out of meadowsweet?

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

Mr. Carrigan had come down the stairs to stand by his wife.

"What's going on, honey?" he asked.

"Well, just some nice couple asking about my wreaths, dear." Madge told him.

"Oh, the wreaths are fine. Fine wreaths." Mr. Carrigan said. "Oh, care for some peanut brittle?" He held out a tin of peanut brittle.

"No thank you." Alice replied.


Hours later they were back in the motel room. Bobby had called and told them how to kill the pagan god, so Dean was sharpening evergreen stakes over a trash bin while Sam did a background check on the Carrigans.

"You're not even getting any in the bin. When the maid comes through she's going to wonder why there are wood shavings all over the floor." Alice complained.

"So? We'll be long gone by then." Dean replied.

"Maybe I don't want a floor covered in wood shavings for the rest of our stay." Alice said.

"Then clean it up yourself." Dean told her.

Alice glared. "I wouldn't have to if you would just-"

"Children please!" Sam interjected. "I found somthing."

"What is it?" Dean asked.

"The Carrigans 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 answered.

"Pagan stuff?" Dean questioned.

"Serious pagan stuff." Sam replied.

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

"Maybe it's in their closet." Alice replied dryly.


Alice went out after after Sam and Dean had gone out to slay the pagan god. When she came back there was something stalking around the motel room in the dark. She knew it couldn't be Sam or Dean since the Impala wasn't in the parking lot, so she hit it with a stunner and turned on the light. It was Mr. Carrigan.

"Well this dosen't bode well." Alice commented.


Getting back to the Carrigans house was more diffecult than Alice was expected. She had thought about taking the Night Train and saying that Mr. Carrigan had had too much egg nog since she couldn't kill him since Dean had put all of the evergreen stakes in the back of the Impala. But if she did that she would have to explain how she had gotten to the Carrigans to Sam and Dean and the "hey not all magic is bad and I can use it" talk wasn't one she was looking forward too. Dean already didn't like her, she didn't need the secret society of magic users to be a factor of their relationship just yet.

So Alice stole a car. And really it was a lot more complicated than those five little words make it sound. First she had to leviate Mr. Carrigan's unconscious form under an illusion while walking at least five blocks from the motel since stealing a vehicle from the parking lot was not a good idea. Then she had do find a car with a big enough trunk to stuff Mr. Carrigan into, break into it, open the trunk, remove some things, stuff Mr. Carrigan inside, stun him again, and figure out how to start it and then drive it to the Carrigans house with her limit driving skills without getting pulled over.

"So I did a little research." Alice began, adressing the body in the trunk. "One thousand and One Herbs, Fungi, and their uses is a rather interesting read. I found out that vervain has also been called tears of Isis, Juno's tears, and Devil's bane. It can be used for protection and it's supposedly able to supress magic. Mint, once an honored herb, has many uses including bringing prosperity, protection, and banishing evil. It obviously dosen't work on you, but I am curious. What are you so afraid of?"

She got no reply.


The Impala was parked outside the Carrigans house. It was easy enough to get one of the extra evergreen stakes out of the trunk. She didn't want to kill Mr. Carrigan in the trunk of the stolen car, well actually she didn't really want to kill Mr. Carrigan at all but it was looking more and more like he and his wife were flesh eating monsters so she moved him into the living room of his house. She could hear Sam, Dean, and Madge in the kitchen.

"What's taking him so long?" Madge asked. "I hope he hasn't run into any trouble."

"Why don't you let us go and you can go look for him?" Dean suggested.

"And have you come back to kill us with with more hunters? I don't think so." Madge replied. "Oh the girl is probably putting up more of a fight then he expected. I'm sure he'll be here soon, then we can started."

Okay, yeah, they needed to die.

Alice cast a silencing charm before stabbing Mr. Carrigan. The body twitched once then went still. She removed the stake, canceled the charm, and turned her attention back to the kitchen. She opened the door just enough to peek in. There was a table full of cookies and Madge was bustling around in a Christmas sweater. It would have been a homey scene if Madge hadn't been preparing ritual objects with Sam and Dean tied to chairs.

"Oh, why, we used to take over a hundred tributes a year and that's a fact." Madge told the brothers. "Now we take maybe two or three. That not so bad, is it?"

There was a lot Alice could have said in reply, but that wasn't the smart move. The smart move was stabbing Madge in the back before she noticed that Alice was there, so that's what she did. Madge gasped before falling to the floor. Alice grabbed a kitchen knife and cut Sam and Dean loose. They checked the body to make sure she was really dead.

"Where's Mr. god?" Dean asked.

"Living room." Alice replied. "How'd they catch you?"

"They found us in the base- oh no Dean, there was someone still down there!" Sam exclaimed.


Sam and Dean brought a man up from the basement and put him on the Carrigans plastic covered couch. They tthought he was Mr. Caldwell, since that was who had been taken most recently. He was bloody, bruised, had several broken bones and was mostly incoherent. The brothers didn't want to wait around after Alice had called 911. Alice understood the sentiment, but didn't want to leave Mr. Caldwell alone when he was terrified and hurt so she told the Winchesters that she'd meet them at the motel and had them leave the front door open for the paramedics.

It only eight or nine minutes or so before the paramedics arrived, but it seemed like longer. Between Mr. Caldwell's injuries and his labored breathing, Alice felt completely helpless to do anything except hold his had and try to come up with comforting things to say. The sirens and flashing lights were a relief.

The paramedics came in through the open door. There was a Latino woman that had her dark hair up in a bun and a towering African American man with a shaved head.

"Over here! He's on the couch." Alice called. "Ignore the guy on the floor. He's dead."

The female paramedic checked Mr. Carrigan anyway, confirming what Alice already knew before moving on. Alice stepped away from couch to let them work.

"We'll need a gurney." the male paramedic told his partner. "Can you tell us what happpened here?"

"Mr. Caldwell, well I think that's Mr. Caldwell, was being kept in the Carrigans basement. The Carrigans they- they wanted to- to do that to me." Alice answered. "Madge said that they take less then they used to, like that someone makes them, made them less monsterus. They've done it for so long they got cocky and left an opening... so I took it."

"You killed the man on the floor?" the male paramedic asked.

"He wanted to kill me." Alice replied.

The other paramedic came back with a gurney.

"The cops are on the way." she announced. "Where'd the girl go?"

The male paramedic turned, but Alice had vanished.


"Why is there a Christmas tree in a bucket on the chair?" Alice asked.

"Sam changed his mind." Dean replied. "We're having a Christmas this year."

"We already exchanged gifts, but uh, here." Sam told Alice, handing her a paper bag.

"Gum and a a chocolate bar." Alice said.

Dean grinned. "The best we could find at the local gasmart."

"I got you guys something too." Alice replied. She reached under her bed, pulled out two gifts wrapped in actual wrapping paper and gave one to each brother. They unwrapped their gifts revealing books.

"A Comprehensive Guide to Demons and Demonology." Sam read.

"The Big Book of Amulets and Talismans." Dean recited. "When did you get these?"

Alice shrugged. "I picked them up when I has doing errands the other day."

"What kind of errands?" Dean asked.

"Well, mostly I made some phone calls." Alice repled.


An old man in a Santa suit stumbled into his mobile home. It had been his last day as a Santa until the next year. The only work he could find was temporary and seasonal. He went to the kitchen to heat up a frozen dinner and was suprised to see a basket sitting on his table. He pulled out a card and read it.

An Unfinished Poem

Soldier I thank you for doing what's right

Though you must find it hard to sleep in the night

Soldier I'm sorry, you must feel so alone

The battle's not over even though you've come home

Soldier I'm sorry for those that don't understand

You deserve better, you fought for our land

Soldier I'm sorry you left friends behind

Not all make it back from the front lines

Soldier know that your brothers suffer no more

While you've had so much taken away by war

Soldier it's important to that we never forget

But that dosen't mean you need to live with regret

It is never too late put your past behind you and turn your life around.

Some find it helpful to return to Vietnam, see how it is now, and get closure.

Some just want to pay tribute to the ones left behind.

In this basket are tickets for Veteran's tours of Vietnam and Washington D.C along with some information about each.

I didn't pick a date. Just call and schedule whenever you want to go, if you want to, you don't have to.

There are also Christmas cookies and some money.

Originally I was just going to get a gift card for Christmas dinner, but then I realized that Santa work in seasonal and you might need a little bit more for bills until you can find more work.

Don't think of this as charity. It's more of an apology really.

The other day a couple of my friends heard a scream as they were passing by and busted in. It was just your T.V.

And I know what's it like have been in a bad stituation and have good people dying around you.

Sometimes I can't help but think about Jimmy's little boy. Occasionally I hear Buzzer's screams when I close my eyes and it's like I never got out, but I got help so the nightmares aren't as bad. So that's why there's information about organizations that might by able to help you. No one should have to suffer like that.

The phone began to ring. The old man picked it up.

"Hello Dad. I just thought that now might be the time to talk."


About the ending of this chapter. I watched "A Very Supernatural Christmas" and then listened to the song "8th of November" by Big and Rich and I started wondering about that lonely old Santa and I felt kind of bad for him.

I thought about including song lyrics or something in the card, but I wanted it to be more from Alice to the old man, so I wrote "An Unfinished Poem" after seeing the title for the song "Soldier I thank you" but before listening to it. It's unfinished because the old man hasn't decided if he's going to change his life or not.

Please don't use "An Unfinished Poem" without permission.

Next Chapter we'll be getting back to Bree.