Day 06: candles, Roadhouse; Dean & Garth

Setting: Stanford Era / AU

A/N: I googled it – Jensen Ackles and DJ Qualls are the same age. I'd never thought that...! Also, I don't like this chapter very much.

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Dean sat in the corner, staring into his beer. He'd woken up with the weird feeling that something was wrong. Since his Dad was all right, it was probably Sam he was worried about.

He thought about calling his brother, and whenever he thought about calling Sam when he and Dad weren't on a case, he went for a drink instead.

No way he would be the one to call first.

Besides, Sammy was at Stanford living his life. He'd gotten out.

So now here Dean was, hours later, and a lot more drunk than before, especially since he realised that the reason why he'd had a weird feeling was that it was Christmas day. Christmas day – but without Sam. Dad hadn't mentioned it, caught up in research for a probable case, but Dean, as soon as he realised it, couldn't stop thinking about it.

Last year's Christmas hadn't gone without a bump or two, but at least Sam had been there. He'd always been there, and Dean missed him. Apparently Sam was much better at living alone than Dean was.

Trying to drown out his thoughts, Dean grabbed his glass and emptied it with one big gulp. The liquid burned down his throat but did nothing to fill the aching hole in Dean's chest.

"There you go", a voice said from next to Dean, and a tea light in a glass was set on his table. Dean stared at the tiny, flickering light before him, then looked up at the guy who'd set it on the table.

He was skinny, his face lit up by a goofy smile, and there was a Santa hat on his head. He looked ridiculous, but he also looked – Dean wasn't sure. He settled on mostly just ridiculous.

"What's that supposed to be?"

"It's a tea light. It's Christmas, remember? It's just so you don't forget." He leaned closer conspiratorially. "In our business", he whispered, "it's easy to forget."

"I don't like the candle. I'm not here to remember. I'm here to forget."

The guy shrugged: "Suit yourself – but the candle stays. You're not the only customer here. Others might like it."

Dean snorted.

The guy, still smiling goofily, moved on to the next table.

Dean leaned forward to snuff out the candle when his phone rang.

"Yeah", he answered, running a hand over his face.

"Hi Dean. It's Sam."

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Garth returned to the counter and rearranged the Santa hat on his head. It was too large, and kept slipping down towards his nose, but he couldn't very well not wear a Santa hat on Christmas day, could he?

He sat down at the counter and ordered a glass of milk.

Carefully turning around a little while later to check if the other customers liked his contribution to Christmas, he noticed that the guy who'd snapped at him was on the phone. He seemed much more relaxed, even smiled a bit.

Garth grinned and drank his milk – there really was nothing better than spreading a bit of Christmas cheer!

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The End