For Jess.
"Santa isn't real," John says. There's silence in the small hotel room.
And all eight year old Dean knows is Sam's face falls and his lower lip is trembling. Sam locks himself in the bathroom before Dean has a chance to console his younger brother. Pure, blinding rage rushed through Dean. He's never felt this angry before.
He turns back to his father, who doesn't even look concerned. "What did you do?" he demands.
John takes a swig of his beer before answering. "He's too old be believing in make believe."
Dean starts shaking. "He's...he's a kid. He's allowed to believe in Santa and the Easter Bunny because that's what kids do. It's not going to kill him." He pauses before growling, "You're not going to tell him about the Easter Bunny, either."
John pointedly takes another swig of his beer. But he doesn't say anything which Dean takes it as his agreement. He marches over and knocks on the bathroom door of the motel. "Sam," he says, his voice begging, "open the door. Please."
It takes a few minutes of coaxing before Sam opens the door. He is wiping his tears on his sleeve. "Dad was telling the truth, wasn't he?"
He doubts that he can salvage Sam's faith, but he's going to try. "Dad's just mad," he assures his younger brother.
It is obvious that Sam doesn't believe him by the way he crinkles his nose. "If Santa isn't real, what about the Easter Bunny?"
Dean gives him a smile. "Well, I guess you'll have to wait to find out, won't you? Now, why don't we go watch a movie?"
"Can't we open presents now?"
Ruffling Sam's hair, Dean laughs. "Nice try. But we're still waiting until morning to open presents." And Dean is thankful when he sees his brother smile.