December 16th
"Plug it in, Dad!"
John Winchester's hands were raw from the prickly pine needles and his palms were sticky with sweet smelling sap.
"All this for a stupid tree?!"John thought bitterly to himself.
"Dad!" Sam called out again, tugging at the sleeve of his father's turtleneck. "Plug it in!"
"Keep your pants on, Sammy," John sighed wearily. "I need to…fix this," John was untangling a section on the unlit string of lights from a branch on the tree. The electric cord had wrapped itself around the largest branch, making the Christmas tree tilt slightly to the left. John grunted with satisfaction as he freed the section of the cable from the limb and the tree stood upright. "Okay…" John said unenthusiastically. "You ready?"
"Yeah!"
Sam and John whipped around. It wasn't Sam who cried out with joy. To John's utter disbelief, it was Dean who spoke!
"Er…" Dean blushed, hitching up his too-small leather jacket. "I mean…go ahead."
Sam was grinning from ear to ear. "Dean? Are you happy too?"
"No, I'm not happy 'bout nothin'," Dean grumbled. Sam was still smiling, not fooled. "Whatcha lookin' at, Coconut-head?"
Sam looked at Dean a little while longer, his green eyes gleaming slyly. Then, he fixed his gaze upon his father. "You ready?"
John picked up the green plug and headed over to the outlet, preparing to stick the little prongs into the slits.
"Wait!" Sam shouted, holding up his hands. "We should count down!"
Dean and John groaned.
"Whatever," Dean rolled his eyes.
"Yay!" Sam clapped his hands together. "Ready, Dean?"
"Yep," Dean sighed.
Sam grabbed Dean's hand as they counted together,
"Five…four…three…two…ONE!"
John jammed the plug into the socket right on cue and tiny, colored lights seemed to spring out of nowhere, bringing life to the Christmas tree. The little lights twinkled and danced like rainbow stars. The sight of the tree was so beautiful and majestic that even Dean gasped in awe.
But the sight of little Sammy was so picturesque that it belonged on a Christmas card. His eyes were glimmering from the dazzling sparkle of the tree and his cheeks were rosy with delight. But the smile that graced across his face was like a contagious disease. If anyone even got a glimpse of it, they would almost instantaneously have a smile so wide on their own face that it would make their dimples feel numb.
"It's…" Dean swallowed. "It's kinda cool."
John moved to Dean's side and looked up at the Christmas tree, remembering his last Christmas tree…
(Flashback)
"John?" Mary Winchester kissed her husband gently on the cheek as they gazed up at the Christmas tree. "Do you think it's beautiful?"
John looked up at a little paper racecar ornament hanging on the tree. "Is that Dean's?"
"Yep," Mary nodded. "Made it at preschool yesterday."
"Will he ever get over this car phase, Mary?" John chuckled.
"Car!" Little three-year old Dean waddled over, wearing blue footie pajamas with different trucks printed all over them.
"Good, Dean!" Mary lifted up Dean with some difficulty.
"Mary…" John warned, gesturing at Mary's stomach. A bulge was forming on her belly. Mary was expecting. "You need to be more careful," John took Dean into his own arms.
"Daddy!" Dean shouted, kissing on the nose. "Pretty twee!"
"That's right," John chortled. "It is a pretty tree."
"Car!" Dean pointed at the crudely made car ornament.
"Did you make that?" John asked, acting overly-impressed.
"I make," Dean nodded. "For Cwissmiss twee!"
"For the Cwissmiss twee," Mary laughed cheerfully. She stopped, wistfully rubbing her belly. "John…I can't wait to have another one…"
(Off flashback)
"Daddy? Why are you sad?" Sam asked, moving over to his father.
"Sad?" John had just surfaced from his ocean of memories.
"You have sad-water," Sam went up on his tip-toes and brushed away a tear on John's cheek. Sam studied the tear that clung briefly on his finger before plummeting to the floor.
"Don't worry, Sammy," John forced a smile. "How 'bout we decorate this tree, now?"
Sam wore a concerned look that contained so much worldly-wisdom that it seemed impossible that such an expression could be etched on the face of a seven year old. "But we need to be happy when we trim the tree."
"Well…you all can be little girls and decorate the tree," Dean snorted. "But I'm gonna be a man," Dean plopped onto the couch.
"Deeeaaaan!" Sam whined.
"No, Sammy…I don't wanna." Dean moaned in his "fifth-graderish" way.
Sam huffed in annoyance and jumped on top of his brother.
"Sam!" Dean shouted, trying to shove Sam off. "Get off!"
But Sam didn't back off. Instead he started tickling Dean's ribcage (his most ticklish spot).
"Ack!" Dean cried, cringing back in horror. "Don't…Sam…no!"
Sam didn't back down, instead he tickled Dean with more vehemence than before. "Help with the Christmas tree and I'll stop!"
"No…I…can't…" Dean hollered in between tortured laughs. "Please…I…okay! Okay! Please…I'll do it! I'LL DO IT FOR CRYIN' OUT LOUD!"
Sam ceased the "torture" and pulled Dean off the couch. "Dad? You have the ornaments?"
John sighed and pulled out a store-bought box of cheap glass ornaments (purchased the day before).
"Don't forget mine!" Sam hopped over by the fireplace and pulled out a plastic tub filled with his homemade ornaments.
"What do we do now?" Dean yawned.
"Hang them on the branches," Sam informed him, digging through his tub and pulling out a little black paper car attached to a hook made out of twine. "I'll let you hang the first one, Dad."
John froze as he saw Sam's craft. "Is that…?"
"It's your car, Dad!" Sam beamed. "See…its black like yours!"
John swallowed, containing his emotion. "I'm fine…you or Dean can hang it."
"Here," Sam held the ornament out to his older brother. "You can do it."
"Sweet," Dean examined the ornament. "For a munchkin twerp, you really have good taste."
"You've…" John's voice was slightly cracked. "You've always liked cars, Dean."
Dean looked at his dad quizzically, but hung the car on the highest bough he could reach. This earned an enthusiastic applause from Sam.
"So pretty," Sam remarked.
"It is," John nodded shakily. "So…you ready to… to get down to business?"