A.N. Holy crap, you guys! I'm really sorry for the huge delay! I've been awfully busy with schoolwork! And I also do not own the Grinch in any way. I also don't own Carpenters…though I really wish I owned Karen's voice…she is my idol.

…

December 21st

…

"Darlin'…are you kiddin' me?" the cashier laughed cruelly.

"What?" Dean looked quizzically up at the cash register that read in green, digital letters "$3.45"…all the money he had.

Ever since Sam had mentioned this whole "Christmas nonsense", Dean had been saving up to buy his little brother a Christmas present. He'd been holding off on the delicious, chocolate pie in the school cafeteria, he'd made sure that he didn't buy any candy with his pocket money, and he picked up all spare change that he found on the ground…placing all his savings in a piggy bank.

Dean thought he had more than enough to buy Sam a "super cool" art kit at the mall toy store as he dumped a large pile of change on the counter and waited impatiently as the cashier counted the money.

"Listen, kid," the cashier said in her nasally voice as she held up the large, fancy art kit that Dean wanted to purchase. "This art kit is thirty-seven bucks...not three forty-five. So either cough up the money or stop wasting my time."

"But…" Dean blinked back tears of disappointment. "I need to get this for my little brother."

"Oh…another snot-nosed brat tellin' a sob story," she sniffed in annoyance. "Look behind you, kid."

Dean turned around to see a huge line of frantic, angry looking people standing behind him.

"What's the hold-up?!" A burly man in a red trench coat shouted.

"Move along, kid," the cashier scoffed. "Next!"

"Please," Dean begged as a tall woman holding a baby pushed him aside. "How'm I supposed to get Sammy a present?"

"Not my problem, kid," the cashier shrugged. "Go get him some cheap crayons and move to the back!"

Crayons?Dean knew Sam already had plenty of crayons. Dean had been hoping to get Sam the best present ever…an amazing art kit…just like Sam wanted. But instead he was walking, without an art kit, out of the mall toy-store. He had a heavy heart and empty hands. How was he supposed to get Sam a present now?

Dean sighed as he trudged through the mall, being shoved occasionally by desperate shoppers. One angry shopper even knocked him down on the hard, marble mall floor without even apologizing.

"Well, excuse me, asshole!" Dean shouted back at the disgruntled shopper, rubbing his sore rear when he'd pulled himself up.

Dean felt the icy cold air wash over him as the large, automatic doors whooshed open, allowing him to exit the mall. He zipped his leather jacket up all the way and cursed himself for not wearing something warmer.

"Walkin' in a Winter Wonderland!"

Dean heard the sound of several voices singing in harmony and the jingling noise of bells ringing. Dean looked to his left out of curiosity to see four people wearing red aprons that said "Salvation Army" on them. They were singing, ringing hand bells, and motioning at a red kettle that rested at their feet.

"In the meadow we can build a snowman…"

"Excuse me?!" Dean marched over to the strange people. "What the hell are you all singin' about? Do you see any snow?" Dean gestured around at the cold, but very snowless vicinity.

Almost instantaneously, the singing turned into jovial laughter.

"What's so funny?" Dean pouted. He was already feeling crummy and he wasn't in the mood to have people laughing at him.

"Son…" A handsome man with auburn hair who appeared to be in his early thirties was the first "aproned" person to speak. All the others were still laughing hysterically. "It's a song…nothin' to get worked up about."

"Well it's intacurate," Dean crossed his arms angrily.

The group laughed even louder.

"You mean inaccurate?" A woman with short, black hair chortled.

"Whatever," Dean pretended that he wasn't crushed to learn that he had been using one of his "big kid words" inaccurately. "S'not my fault you all are stupid." Dean turned around and started to leave.

"Aw, c'mon, kid!" The dark haired woman took him by the shoulder and pulled him back over with the strange group. "Get into the Christmas spirit!"

"If I hear "Christmas spirit" one more time…" Dean clenched his teeth.

"Wait!" the red haired man exclaimed. "This kid's given me the inspiration for our next song!" He whispered something to the rest of the crowd…an Asian-looking man and a young girl with long, red hair. "Are you all ready?"

"Greg…" the dark haired woman groaned. "What in the world are you going to…?"

"You're a mean one…Mr. Grinch. You really are a heel! You're as cuddly as a cactus; you're as charming as an eel…" They started singing, laughter in their eyes. The dark haired woman giggled and sang along, straightening up her red apron as she joined them, standing at the end of the line and singing the soprano melody.

Dean stared at all of them in disbelief, mouth agape as they began to harmonize with,

"Your brain is full of spiders. You've got garlic in your soul…Mr. Grinch!"

"Hold it! Hold it!" Dean had regained the ability to speak and was motioning for the group to stop singing. "Who's Mr. Grinch?"

"Is this kid for real?" The girl with red hair whispered, smiling.

"You mean to tell me that you've never read "How the Grinch stole Christmas?" by Dr. Seuss?" The red haired man looked at Dean as if he were an alien.

"Dr. Seuss?" Dean raised his eyebrows. "You mean that dorky guy who makes up words and rhymes?"

"You are a deprived child," The Asian man remarked.

"Am not!" Dean protested. "At least I don't have to stand out in the cold and ring bells and sing songs about nonexistent snow while wearing stupid looking aprons."

To Dean's surprise, this earned him more laughter from the strange host of people.

"We don't have to," the dark haired woman explained, after the laughter had died down. "We're volunteers." She picked up the red kettle and rang the brass bell she had clenched in her hand. Right on cue, a little girl, who couldn't have been more than three, broke free of her mother and waddled over to the red kettle, putting two quarters in the kettle.

"Thank you, honey!" the dark haired woman smiled at the little girl. "Merry Christmas!" The girl disappeared in a flash. She must've been shy.

"Oh…I get it!" Realization dawned over Dean. "You all are beggars."

"Not beggars," the dark haired woman corrected him, putting down the kettle. "This money isn't for us...it's for charity."

"Huh?" Dean scratched his head.

"This money goes to people who need help," The Asian man explained.

Dean perked up immediately as he heard the Asian man say this. Maybe these people could give him the money to buy Sam's Christmas present! "Boy, I came to the right place, didn't I?!"

The four Salvation Army volunteers looked at each other, seeing if anyone understood what Dean was talking about.

"What do you mean, son?" the red haired man questioned him.

"I really need to get a present for my little brother," Dean informed them. "I've been saving up money to buy him a super cool art kit…but when I went to go buy it, I didn't have enough money…"

"Wait…" the dark haired woman held up her hands. "You want us to give you money?"

"Isn't that what you all do?" Dean's hope was slowly slipping away. "Give money to people who need help?"

"Oh, honey," the dark haired woman knelt in front of him, putting her hands on his shoulders. "This money goes to people who hardly have anything at all...people who don't have enough clothes, enough food, enough things to keep them warm…"

"Oh," Dean looked down at his feet. "I…understand…I guess…"

The dark haired woman looked back at her group with concern and mouthed something to them. After a few moments, she turned back around to Dean.

"What's your name, sweetie?" she asked.

"I'm not s'posed to say my full name," Dean shrugged.

"Then just tell me your first name." the dark haired woman giggled.

"Dean,"

"Dean?" the black haired woman smiled. "I'm Vivien…it's nice to meet you, Dean." Vivien held out her hand and Dean timidly shook it. Then, the Asian man stepped forward,

"I'm Fred," Fred held out his hand as well for Dean to shake.

"And I'm Greg…and this is my younger sister, Brianna," Greg motioned to the red-headed girl. Dean took a closer examination and was able to detect the resemblance between the two.

"Nice to meet you," Dean mumbled unenthusiastically.

"Look," Vivien said. "I think it's really sweet how you want to get a present for your little brother…"

"I need to get a present for my little brother." Dean corrected her, trying not to let any tears escape from his eyes. He was having that feeling again. The feeling that he'd failed. He'd failed to get Sam…the center of his universe…a good Christmas present. Now, how would Sam ever know how much Dean really loved him?

"He's pretty special, isn't he?" Vivien gazed up at Dean with chaste sympathy in her eyes.

"You don't know the half of it," Dean rubbed his numb, cold hands together. "He's kinda showin' me that Christmas isn't all that bad. I mean…my family and I haven't celebrated Christmas since I was three or four…before my mom died. And Sam comes home one day…"

"Is that your brother? Sam?" Fred asked.

Dean nodded. "Yeah…he's seven now." Dean was silent for a minute as he watched an elderly woman put two dollars in the red kettle. "Well…he made us decorate the apartment and do all this other stuff. Dad and I thought it was stupid at first. And I s'pose Dad still kind of thinks it's stupid…but when Sam brought home a poor person…I dunno…I just kind of started to think that Christmas wasn't that stupid…"

"Is that when you decided to get him a present?" Brianna piped up.

"Nah," Dean shook his head. "I'd been savin' to get him one ever since he brought up the stupid Christmas shit…"

The four bell ringers were shocked to hear such language coming out of the mouth of a fifth grader. But all of them tried to brush it aside and listen to the kid.

"Is that really how you feel about Christmas?" Brianna asked, her voice coated with pity.

"For most of my life…then it kind of changed…but now…" Dean looked down at his shoes again. "Now I realize that it's all a…a…marketing scam…" he'd learned that phrase from Sam, the child prodigy.

"He's gettin' all "Mr. Grinch" on us again," Greg commented, chuckling.

"Shut up, Greg," Brianna elbowed her brother in the ribs. "Could you be any more insensitive?"

"I wish I knew who this Grinch guy was," Dean grumbled in aggravation.

"I've got the cartoon version on tape!" Fred announced. "Why don't we all come over to your place at Christmas and we can all watch it?"

"Fred!" Vivien gave Fred a sharp look. "We can't just barge into some kid's house without his parents'…father's…permission!"

"Well…" Dean rubbed his chin, a habit of his father's that he liked to imitate. "You all'd get along with Sam, I'm sure. With your stupid, "holly jolly" attitudes and junk…"

"Aww!" Vivien gave Dean a tight hug. "He's so cute and acerbic!"

"I'm not cute," Dean spat. He was thoroughly disgusted, as he pushed Vivien away and ran a hand through his hair.

"He's like a mini motorcycle dude!" Brianna remarked, giggling.

"Do you know how much you girls are degrading this poor guy?" Greg stepped up before Dean could say anything nasty. "I'm sorry about them, Dean…they kind of do that to everyone…"

"Aww! Look at that little carrot-top hair!" Vivien tousled Greg's hair lovingly.

"Guys?" Fred spoke up. "Remember what we're supposed to be doing?"

"Oh…right…" Greg nodded, motioning for the group to get in a line. "Which one should we do?"

"Umm…Greg?" Dean said, blushing and rubbing the back of his head. He was nervously rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.

"Yeah little dude?" Greg raised his eyebrows as the other three looked at him with interest.

"Don't think I'm girly or anything…but…do you all know that song "Merry Christmas Darling" by the Carpenters?" Dean bit his lower lip. "I've been hearin' it on the radio…and I'm…kind of…starting to like it…a little."

The entire group smirked and looked at each other. Brianna stepped forward,

"That song is my expertise," she winked at Dean. "I'm an alto."

"Would you like to sing with us?" Fred asked.

"Er…I'm not that good," Dean lied. He actually was a pretty decent singer.

"That's okay," Greg grinned. "You can sing with me. I'm not too good either."

"Um…" Dean flushed even redder.

"C'mon…sing with us!" Vivien pleaded.

"Oh…okay," Dean shrugged, ears cherry red as he walked over to the line of singers.

"Okay…" Greg cleared his throat. "Ready, Bri?"

"Ready," Brianna nodded, took a deep breath, and began to sing with a rich, velvety voice,

"Greeting cards have all been sent,

The Christmas rush is through

But I still have one wish to make…

A special one for you…"

When it got into the chorus, the rest of the group starting humming…then singing along. Dean was shy at first, but once it neared the end of the song, he was singing out loud and clear. A throng of people began crowding around them to listen…and to give money. Dean was singing so well that the other four singers allowed him a solo,

"Logs on the fire...fill me with desire…

To see you and to say…

That I wish you "Merry Christmas"

Happy New Year, too!

I've just one wish on this Christmas Eve…

I wish I were with you…"

Then the whole group sang together,

"I wish I were with you…"

"Dean!"

John was pushing through the crowd and making his way over to Dean. When he reached his eldest son, he gripped him by the shoulders,

"What the hell are you doin'?" John interrogated Dean. "I was waitin' outside in the Impala forever! I was worried sick! I thought you'd been…"

"Sir?" Vivien stepped up. "It's our fault. He was with us."

"Well…" John was about to tell Vivien off, but Dean put a hand on his upper arm,

"They're not demons, Dad," Dean said. "At least…I don't think so."

"Cristo!" John cried. The four Salvation Army volunteers looked at the man as if he were an escapee from an insane asylum. "Er…sorry…thanks for watching over Dean."

"No problem," Greg smiled. "He's a nice kid."

John coughed nervously and put a dollar in the kettle.

"Thank you, sir!" Brianna nodded gratefully. "Merry Christmas!"

"Jesus Christ!" John groaned. "If anyone says "Merry Christmas" one more time…"

"Like father like son," Greg whispered to Vivien.

"Hey…I know you don't know us all that well, sir," Fred stepped up. "But…I just want to say…I hope your family…pulls through it."

"Dad?" Dean looked up at his father. "They want to show me a Christmas movie about a guy who steals Christmas. Can they come over on Christmas?"

"Dean..." John moaned. "We're already having Cora over…"

"The more the merrier!" Dean beamed up at John.

"Fine! I'm a complete pushover!" John cried out, pulling a receipt and a pen out of his coat pocket. He scribbled something on the back of the receipt and handed it to Fred. "Here's our address. You're welcome to come over for Christmas. Bring a dish if you'd like. There's going to be food, music, salsa dancers, acrobats, a magician, a mime…oh…and I'll even throw in a freaking clown!"

Instead of remarking on his father's obvious sarcasm, Dean said,

"Sam wouldn't like that…he's scared of clowns."

"If it's too much trouble…" Vivien started.

"Don't worry about it," John had halfway regained his composure. "We'd love to have you over. Good day!" John grabbed Dean's hand and pulled him away from the crowd.

"Bye! See ya later!" Dean waved with the hand that wasn't in his father's grasp. He was feeling considerably better. And he would be feeling great if it weren't for that one gloomy thing looming over his head. The fact that he still had nothing to give to Sam.