Disclaimer: Not even Santa would let me have them!!
A/N: Ho ho ho-lly crap! This story... oh man... Alright-- so first off; Merry Christmas everyone! Technically it's past midnight right now, but I haven't gone to bed so it's still Christmas. And this is my Christmas one shot!! Though the term one shot is used loosely... I put so much work onto this story-- haha, it's over 10'000 fricken words long!! Alright-- so about this story... it's called '12 Days of Christmas', and essentially what it is, is 12 seperate stories all wrapped into one. Fom 1982 to 2006, I took twelve Christmas' and wrote a story for them. The things that I made connect the stories are kindda subtle... but look out for the obvious thing-- which is two ornaments, and the not so obvious thing; Sam and the color blue, and Dean and the color red. Anyways-- yeah... this is what I've been promising you all for a while now, and I'm kindda proud of myself for getting it out on time. It is long, so it may take you a while to read, but please, please, PLEASE lemme know what you think. Haha-- I strive for reviews. So yeah... there may be a couple of days gap before the next one shot, but until then-- enjoy and Happy Holidays!!
Title: 12 Days of Christmas
Genre: Everything... no, seriously... everything. I looked through here, and I have all genre's in this thing... yep... even romance...
Summary: Like a photo album, we take a look at twelve different Christmas' through the Winchester family, and see what it is that makes them special.
12 Days of Christmas
December 25th, 1982
John sighed deeply, but had to smile. They had moved out of Mike's house just a few weeks earlier, and had chose to set up camp in a low rent apartment. A small, three foot Christmas tree was all John could afford, and it sat sturdy in the corner of the living room, currently being inspected by seven and a half month old Sammy. Two months earlier if someone had told the Winchester father that he would be in the situation that he was in, he would have laughed.
Or cried.
It was the first Christmas without Mary, and it was being taken hard by everyone; in particular Dean. The boy was no longer a toddler; his fifth birthday coming far too soon, and so John knew Dean would always remember these months after his Mom died. It was because of this that John vowed to make each Christmas special-- no matter what was happening, Christmas had to be special.
"Dean," John forced a grin as he walked in towards his eldest, "Why don't you show Sammy his Christmas ornament."
When each boy was born, Mary had bought a Christmas ornament with their name inscribed on it, and their birthday. It was his wife's way of making the boys a part of the holidays.
"I dunno," Dean had been really quiet lately and John would struggle to make the boy speak.
"Come on," John scooped Dean up and sat on floor next so Sam, "You know you want to."
Dean kept a determinedly blank face, and with a smile, John lifted up his t-shirt and blew a loud raspberry on his stomach. A loud screeching giggle immediately erupted from the four year old.
"Daddy, no!" Dean called out, "That tickles!"
"I'm not stopping until Sammy tells me to," John pulled his face away just long enough to speak before moving in for another laughter inducing raspberry.
"Daddy," Dean's voice squeaked, "Sammy can't talk yet!"
John breathed deep and let Dean sit upright on his lap, "Alright-- you win. But now you have to show Sammy his ornament, or he'll never know which one it is."
Dean nodded, "Ok."
John leaned to his left and picked up the enfant; cradling both boys in his arms as they sat in front of the small Christmas tree. The evening was quiet and peaceful as Dean pointed out Sam's ornament; a medium sized blue ball with the words 'Samuel Winchester' written in gold. A picture of a small boy holding a baseball bat ready to swing at an unseen ball was underneath the name, and on the opposite side was written 'May 2nd, 1982'.
December 25th, 1985
"That's mine Sammy!" Dean hollered before quickly shouting out, "Dad! Sammy took my truck!"
John walked in from the kitchen with a cup of coffee in his hand. Sam was crouched on the floor, his body protectively covering a bright red truck while Dean stood towering overtop of him, clearly ready to pull the three year away from the toy as violently as possible.
"Sammy, whose truck is that?" John asked calmly.
"Mine!" Sam declared loudly, still clutching the toy.
"It is not Dad!" Dean immediately pointed out, his arms folded across his chest, "He got the blue truck-- mine was the red!"
"Calm down Dean," John smiled, then looked at Sam, "Sammy, what color is the truck?"
Sam moved a way a bit so he could look at it, "Red."
"Good job," John encouraged, "Now what color is that truck beside you?"
Sam looked at that truck, "Blue!"
"What color do you like best?" John questioned, knowing the answer already.
"Blue!" Sam cried out, moving quickly from one toy to the other.
Dean snatched up his truck before Sam could reclaim it, then looked at his Dad, "How'd you know Sammy's favorite color is blue?"
John's eyes sparkled, "Same way I know yours is red."
Dean's seven year old eyes shone in wonder; his Dad knew everything! John did know lots of things, he had to admit. He knew how to get rid of a demon, he knew how to bless holy water, he'd memorized three separate exorcism rituals, and he'd even managed to learn basic Old Latin. But as he stared at the small Christmas tree sitting on the table while Dean and Sam played with their trucks, he knew the real reason behind his son's favorite colors, and it had nothing to do with demons or supernatural beings. Right on the front of the tree hung Sammy's blue ornament, and beside it, Dean's bright red one.
December 25th, 1986
Sam laid on the couch, his head hanging off the edge as he looked upside down at the decorations hanging from the wall. One week ago the Winchester family had hung lights all around the small living room, and now they were turned on; the bright reds, greens and blues illuminating the room. The four year old had been suffering a nasty flu for the entire week leading up to Christmas, and now was so tired that his new toys were laying untouched on the ground in front of him.
"Hey Dean?" he finally spoke.
"Yeah?" Dean sat cross-legged on the chair next to the couch working on some Christmas break school work.
"Where's Daddy?"
Dean sighed sadly and looked at his little brother, "He's gone out for the weekend, remember? He'll be home tomorrow morning."
"But it's Christmas," Sam pointed out, "Daddy's never gone today."
"I know Sammy," Dean's voice was soft, "But he had to go out."
"Why?"
"Just because," Dean stated, "Do you want to watch the new movie that you got for Christmas?"
Sam silently shook his head no, and went back to staring at the lights. Dean felt a lump in his throat, and wished he could tell his brother why his Dad had to go. The day before John had left more responsibility to the eight year old than any kid should have as he told his eldest boy that he had to go and hunt a shadow demon in the next town over. Unfortunately John wouldn't be able to be home on Christmas Day, and so the family had exchanged small gifts the evening before. Everything was wrong that year; the Winchester's had moved into their new place just weeks earlier, and so the only Christmas decorations that were put up was the lights which Sam had insisted on placing around the room. Dean had hoped that a tree would be put up, but the year before had shown to be the last year for the three foot tree, and this year John said he was too busy to get another one.
All Dean wanted was to put up the ornaments.
"Hey Sammy," Dean suddenly spoke up, "Want to decorate the living room for when Daddy comes home?"
This got Sam's attention, not only because of the prospect of more decorating, but also of his big brother's use of the word 'Daddy'; a sentimental note that rarely escaped the aging Winchester. It was a quick and excited 'yes!' later before both boys went around the place decorating. There was two boxes of Christmas things that Dean knew of; one was large and held big, non breakable things like tinsel, garland, paper hand-made figures, and a giant Santa which stood beside a sleigh. The second box held the breakable things; a porcelain nativity set, the Angel which always sat on the top of the tree, and Sam and Dean's ornaments. Dean searched through the whole place, but was only able to find the larger of the two boxes. That didn't stop the Winchester brother's from laughing and having fun decorating nearly every inch of the living room and adjoining kitchen.
"Dean, look!" Sam giggled from near the far wall, "Look at Santa!"
Dean looked over and saw that Sam had carefully wrapped some red garland around the Santa's neck to make it look like a scarf, "You're a goof Sammy."
Sam grinned and went about throwing tinsel around the table to try and make a winter wonderland with small hand-made people that Dean had made in first grade. Neither boy noticed their father walk in as by that time loud Christmas music was blaring from the radio. For nearly a minute John watch Sam and Dean sit at the table placing pieces of foil on the table and pretending it was a skating rink for the people to skate on. With a smile, he walked into his bedroom, and returned a few moments later with a box in his hand.
"Missing something boys?" John spoke loudly over the music.
"Daddy!" Sammy cried out spinning out of the chair and bolting across the room.
John placed the box on the ground and bent down to scoop up his youngest. Sam wrapped himself around his Dad, leaning his head into John's snow covered jacket. John held the embrace as Dean rushed over to him as well to join in the hug. Wrapping his arm around Dean as Sam continued to cling onto his Dad, John waited a long moment before anyone spoke.
"Daddy, you're home!" Sam was near tears as he spoke, "Dean said you weren't gonna be here."
"I know Sammy," John smiled, "But I couldn't leave you guys today. It's Christmas!"
"I'm sorry about the mess Dad!" Dean, too, looked as if he could burst into tears at any moment, "I didn't know you were gonna be here today. And Sammy was feeling better, so we decided to decorate because we couldn't get a tree, and--"
"It's ok Dean," John laughed as he plopped Sam on the couch and reached down to the box, "I came to help you guys."
Carefully John opened the box and Dean peaked inside; it was the one holding all of the breakable and special things. John took out Dean's ornament and handed it to his eldest, and then took hold of the blue ornament and lead Sammy to the Santa which still had the garland wrapped around it's neck.
"Christmas wouldn't be special without these," John whispered more to himself than anybody else.
Carefully the boys hung the ornaments around the garland, and the three spent the rest of the night singing Christmas carols, drinking hot chocolate and living a life where demons where something you read in books where there was always a night in shinning armor to save the day.
December 25th, 1988
"Who is he?" Sam had his arms folded over his chest as he stared accusingly at the man standing before him.
"Sam!" ten year old Dean hissed out as he elbowed his little brother, "Be polite."
"No!" Sam pouted further, "It's Christmas, and Daddy said that we were gonna cel'brate as a family! He's not part of the family."
The man before the brother's smiled widely, "I could never be a part of your family."
Sam opened his mouth to shoot back an insult but then slowly closed it as the realization of the man's words sunk in. John stood beside the stranger in the opening to the house, and watched with fascination as the events unfolded.
"Why not?" the six year old finally asked.
"Because if I were part of your family, I wouldn't be able to spoil you," the man winked as he pulled out a bag from behind his back, "But before I can give anyone anything, I need to know who is who," he looked at Sam, "I bet you're John."
Sam giggled at this, "No. I'm Sam. My Dad's name is John."
"So that's why he kept calling himself that," the man looked now at Dean who had laughed at the last comment, "That only leaves you son. You must be Dean."
"Yes Sir," Dean nodded obediently.
"Sir?" the stranger chuckled, "John, you did a fine job."
John smiled proudly, "They're smart boys."
"They sure are," the man handed a small bag to Sam, "Here you go Sam, I hope you like it."
"Thanks!" Sam's anger and resentment towards the man was long gone by now as he took the gift and rushed into the living room to open it.
"And you Dean," the man handed Dean a similarly shaped bag.
"Cool," Dean grinned widely, "Thanks!"
Following his brother's actions, Dean went into the living room to open the present up. The man then looked over at John and sighed almost sadly.
"Do they both know?"
John shook his head, "No… just Dean. Sammy…" John echoed his friends sigh, "Dean has been stopping him from knowing for a long time now. It's not going to last," John stared out into the other room at his boys, "It's getting too dangerous for them, and I can't ask Dean to do so much for this family when he's still a kid himself."
"When are you going to tell the young one?" the man asked.
John swallowed, "Not today. Of all the days in the year, today is the day for them-- for Sam and Dean to be normal, and to celebrate a day meant to be happy. Sammy deserves to be a child."
"Daddy look at this!" Sam cried running into the room, "Look what he gave me!"
Sam proudly held up a hat, mitt and scarf set; all different shades of blue.
"Me too!" Dean joined his brother, "Except mine are red! How did you know our favorite colors?"
The newly found friend smiled, "Santa clued me in on it."
Sam's eyes widened in wonder while Dean grinned and glanced at his Dad; knowing the real reason behind the knowledge.
"That's great boys," John smiled enthusiastically, "Make sure to thank him."
"Thank you!" Sam cried out, racing back into the living room to play with his other assortment of Christmas things he'd got that year.
"Thank you Sir," Dean spoke quickly before going after Sam.
"Thank you," John looked at the man.
"It's no problem John," the man insisted, placing a hand on John's shoulder, "I'm here for whatever you need. You know that."
John nodded, tears creeping to his eyes, "Really… thank you Bobby."
December 25th, 1992
"Perfect," John whispered, a tear forcing it's way down his face, "This is just perfect."
Anyone just listening to the father's voice may not have been able to pick up on the sarcasm, but to see the man pacing the emergency room would show a picture of anything but perfect. Glancing over, John saw ten year old Sam curled up on the chair with his eyes closed.
Though he knew the youngest wasn't asleep.
"Sammy," John spoke into the otherwise empty waiting room, "Do you want me to call Bobby or Pastor Jim to take you back home? You can sleep more comfortably."
"No," Sam's eyes opened, but he remained in the chair, "I want to make sure Dean is ok."
John nodded in understanding-- that's exactly what he wanted to know as well. When Dean had been pushed off the roof of the abandoned house by the poltergeist they'd been hunting, John was pretty sure his heart stopped. Sam had got there before John did, and had started screaming at the site of his brother's unconscious and bloody body. The next few hours were an angry blur to John; the race to the hospital, doctors questions, and the knowledge that Dean had to be taken into surgery to repair a badly broken arm.
And all on Christmas!
John promised his sons that this was a small hunt, and they'd be done well in time to have a Christmas dinner together and open gifts. It had all changed so dramatically, and John wished, more than anything, that he'd never taken his boys on the hunt.
"Mr. Lovings?" a doctor in scrubs walked over to John, interrupting his thoughts.
"Yes," John's eyes widened, "How is my son? How's Dean?"
"Dean will be fine," the Doctor smiled, "He's in recovery right now, and is awake. He had a badly broken arm which we had to set, and a mild concussion. He was a very lucky boy, and should be good to go home some time tomorrow."
"Thank you," John choked on the good news, and wrapped his arm around Sam, who had walked over when the doctor entered, "Can we see him?"
"Sure," the Doctor nodded, "He may seem a little groggy from the anesthesia, but he is awake."
Sam laced his hand through John's as they walked down the hall to Dean's room. Once there, John stepped in first to see Dean laying in a hospital bed; his left arm was being held up with a sling, he had a bandage on the right side of his head, and an IV tube stuck out of his right hand. His eyes were small slits as he stared, still only half awake, at the entrance of his Dad and little brother.
"Hey Dean," John smiled widely and walked to the side of the bed; he brushed some stray hair from his forehead, "How are you feeling dude?"
A weak smile touched Dean's lips, "Hi Dad. I-I hurt."
"It'll get better," John assured, rubbing his hand gently down Dean's good arm, "Just try to get some rest."
"What about Sammy?" Dean asked, glancing at his little brother, who stood scared near the end of the bed, "Is he ok?"
John grinned again, "Sammy's fine. We're just worried about you."
The fourteen year old took a deep breath, "I'm sorry I ruined Christmas Dad."
John shook his head, "You didn't ruin it son. It was me."
"No, me!" Sam suddenly put in taking three big steps to meet in the conversation, "I'm the one who really wanted to go on the hunt, 'member?"
"No Sammy," a tear crawled down Dean's face, "It wasn't you," and then added to try and make up, "And when we get home-- I got a real good Christmas present for you."
The young Winchester looked earnestly at Dean, "You already gave me one-- even better than Mom's ornaments!"
Dean looked puzzled for a moment before Sam leaned over to hug Dean and whispered through his young tears, "You Dean… you're the best Christmas present there is."
December 25th, 1993
"This isn't right," Dean sighed before calling out, "Dad, there's something seriously wrong with this picture!"
John grinned as he walked through the opened back door and into the yard, "What do you mean?"
"I mean it's Christmas day, and it's eighty-four degrees out," Dean, despite the complaint, smiled, "No wonder Santa doesn't come visit us-- he'd melt!"
"Wrong Dean," eleven year old Sam commented from his position on the grass, "The snowman would melt if he came here; Santa doesn't come visit because you like to shoot things."
"Shut up Sammy," Dean laughed, and tossed a towel at his brother.
It was probably the nicest place that Dean could ever remember living at; a three bedroom house located in southern Arizona that had, not only a fenced in backyard, but also a tree fort. It was expensive though, and their Dad had told Dean that they wouldn't be there much past the new year, but for now, the brother's loved playing in the sprinkler they had set up, and playing in the fort.
"How about next time we move to Alaska, then we can make up for our lack of snow here," John half threatened, "Because we all know how much you like snow Dean."
"Yeah," Sam quipped up, "You were complaining when we were up in Wyoming, and there was barely any snow there."
"Didn't I already tell you to shut up?"
"Easy Dean," John warned, "Why don't you go inside and sit under the air conditioner. We're going to be moving in a couple of weeks, so you won't have the luxury of it for much longer."
"Can't we go on a hunt or something?" Dean sighed out, "It just doesn't feel like Christmas."
"Yeah, so we can spend the day in the ER again?" Sam spoke up bitterly as he stood to his feet.
"Last warning Sam," Dean shoot a look at his brother.
Sam grinned widely, and walked into the house. Though he teased his brother on the complaints, Sam did have to agree; it didn't seem like Christmas at all. There was no snow, no decorations at all, no Christmas trees, and their Dad explained that any gifts would come after the new year when he'd have a little more money. All that was happening that day was a barbeque, and in a couple of hours Pastor Jim, Bobby and Caleb would come by. That didn't make things much better as Sam knew all that they would do would be sit around and talk about hunting for hours.
Going into his room, Sam softly closed the door and went over to his bed. He wished they could stay there longer just because of the bed that he had-- it held three drawers on the lower half and had a tall headrest with bookshelves in it. Plenty of room to hide stuff from Dean, who had taken up habit of snooping through Sam's things.
"I know Dad said that we were waiting until New Years," Sam mumbled to no one in particular as he opened up one of the drawers, "But something special should happen today."
Carefully, Sam pulled out a neatly wrapped package that he'd tapped up with the Saturday morning comics. Being careful to be quiet, Sam snuck out of his room, and into Dean's significantly more messy room.
"Merry Christmas Dean," Sam whispered, placing the package on his big brother's bed.
It would be many hours before Dean walked into his room, and opened the gift. But when he did, it would be the first time in a long time that the fifteen year old would cry. Fore wrapped up carefully in the comics was a red frame that Sam had obviously made, and inside was a picture of Dean and his Mom on his first Christmas.
December 25th, 1994
John had been acting suspicious the whole week leading up to Christmas. They were, not surprisingly, strapped on cash, but John had promised them both that they'd get something that Christmas, and that they'd celebrate it properly. Michigan held snow that year at Christmas time, so John found himself entertained as he watched twelve year old Sam and sixteen year old Dean have a snowball fight out in the front yard of their low rental place.
"Watch it Dean!" Sam cried out between laughter, "You got an advantage!"
"Yeah, I'm way better at this than you!" Dean taunted back, landing a snowball square between Sam's shoulder blades.
"No!" Sam called back, and lifted his left arm up.
It was impossible to tell with his snowsuit overtop, but Dean knew he was trying to point out the cast which covered half of his arm. It was two weeks earlier during what was thought to be a mundane hunt, that Sam had been shoved down some stairs and broke his arm.
"You don't throw with your left arm," Dean threw another snowball; this one hitting Sam on his forehead, causing snow to cascade down his face, "Opps."
"You're going to get it!" Sam shouted out playfully, making a beeline for his brother.
With a warriors cry, Sam pounced on Dean, sending the two to the ground with a soft thump. Sam had the advantage this time as he sat on top of Dean, and struggled to shove his face into the cold snow.
'Damn, when the hell did you get so strong?!' Dean thought as he struggled against his little brother.
"Face wash!" Sam declared as he finally pinned Dean down and smashed half of his face into the soft snow.
"Body wash!" Dean shot back as he picked up a handful of snow and shoved it down the front of Sam's jacket.
A delighted scream of shock escaped Sam's mouth as he rolled back. A wrong move as seconds later Dean had pounced over, and now had him pinned to the snow. The elder brother was just about to return the favor of a face wash when John spoke up from his vantage point at the door.
"Ok boys-- come on in!"
"To be continued," Dean playfully threatened, getting to his feet.
Extending an arm, Dean helped Sam to his feet, and the two Winchester's went back into the warmth of the house. The front door connected almost immediately into the living room, so as they undressed from their hats, mitts, snow pants and jackets, they could easily see the set up John had done this year. A full sized Christmas tree stood in the corner of the room; the pride and joy of the two brother's who had decorated it with everything from stringed popcorn, to the handmade Santa's and most importantly, their Mom's ornaments. Throughout the rest of the room other Christmas decorations had been pinned and tapped to the wall. Garland strung across one wall had held the stockings which had been opened first thing in the morning to reveal the small trinkets, toys and candy which every kid loved.
"Hot chocolate's on the table," John smiled as his rosy-cheeked boys walked into the living room.
"Wow Dad," Dean looked impressed as he took his drink and sat on the couch, "You're really going all out this year."
"Yeah," Sam sat cross legged on the floor, taking careful sips of his own hot chocolate, "Why?"
John laughed, "Don't seem so shocked-- I know I've really been into hunting lately, but your old man still has a little Christmas spirit left."
"He's going to want something from us later," Sam shot a sideways look at Dean.
"Something big," Dean grinned.
"Funny," John rolled his eyes, as he walked over to the tree, took a small box from underneath it, and handed it to Dean, "This is for you Dean."
"It looks like a ring box," Dean observed.
"I think Dad's hinting at wanting you to get a girlfriend," Sam quipped up.
"I think someone has a soar shoulder," Dean responded, and swiftly smacked his little brother in the shoulder.
John laughed at his son's bickering, "Just open it Dean."
Eagerly the sixteen year old ripped opened the packaging, and found himself staring at a white box. With a small flint of worry that it was a ring, Dean opened up the box, and felt his breath catch in his throat.
"No way Dad…"
"What is it?" Sam eagerly asked as he scrambled to peak at the present.
Carefully, and with a shaking hand, Dean lifted up a shinny new key-ring with a key attached to the end which he immediately recognized.
"You better take care of it," John had a large smile on his face as he watched his son's stunned look.
"Dad…" Dean breathed, trying to find the words, "The… the car?"
John nodded, "I've been saving up to get myself a new vehicle, and was able to put a down payment on a truck-- I want you to have the Impala; you'll need it."
Wordlessly Dean got to his feet, and shoved all tough teenager pride aside as he grabbed his Dad in a tight hug. I small sob came from Dean as he tried to feebly wipe away the tears which were threatening to leak over.
"Thank you so much Dad," Dean's voice was soft and emotion filled.
John smiled and ran a quick hand through Dean's hair, "You're welcome Dean."
"He got a car!?" Sam suddenly cried out from his position on the floor, "How is that fair in any way?"
John looked down at his youngest, "Don't worry Sammy, I have something for you too."
"I bet it's not a car," Sam pouted, folding his arms across his chest.
"What good would a car be for you?" Dean questioned as he returned back to the couch, "You don't even know how to drive."
Sam remained quiet to this comment as John went back over to the tree and grabbed out a medium sized package.
"Here you go Sammy," John's eyes twinkled, "I'm thinking you're going to like it, so cheer up."
Sam couldn't help but smile as he took the present, and eagerly opened it.
His chest dropped though, as he noticed it was just clothes, "Umm… thanks Dad."
John laughed, "Look closer Sammy."
Curiously Sam pulled the blue and yellow stripped clothes out of the wrapper more, and held them up. It was as he did this, that the youngest Winchester's eyes widened some as he saw his name stitched into the sleeve of the shirt.
"Dad, is this---?" Sam stood to his feet to get a better look at what he saw now was matching shorts and a t-shirt.
John grinned, "The indoor soccer team starts in January. You're all signed up."
"Oh wow!" Sam leaped into John, and squeezed his Dad tightly, "Thanks Dad!" the excitement then dropped as realization of something occurred, "Wait…"
"What?" John held Sam at arms length and looked into his sudden sunken excitement.
"Soccer lasts a long time," Sam spoke quietly, "And we always move every couple of months…"
John shot out another smile, "That's another thing," he looked at Dean, "That both of you will like. I've rented out this place until July-- so you can both get used to it here for a while."
"Alright!" Dean got to his feet now, "That's awesome Dad! There's this girl, Erica, who wanted me to take her to the spring dance--"
The rest of the evening went by in a loud, happy, teasing Christmas blur. Even if there was no turkey in the oven, or lights on the outside of the house, John knew exactly how to make Christmas happy. And both brothers had to admit-- it had been the best Christmas in a long time.
December 25th, 1996
"Please Dad!" Dean begged, tears streaking down his face, "Please! Just call the police!"
It was all John could do to keep the tears from falling down his own face as he stared at his eighteen year old son, "Dean, we've been over this--"
"I don't care!" Dean shouted, "It's been two days Dad!"
"Dean," worry in the form of anger was bubbling up in John, "Sammy wasn't--" the hunter was forced to clear his throat, "Sammy wasn't taken by a person. He didn't run away. He was taken by a God damn spirit. Now what, I ask you, do you propose the police would do?"
Dean had no answer, but instead stood numbly outside the Impala. His Dad, unfortunately, was right. It wasn't as though there was no one looking for his fourteen year old brother-- John had called everyone from Pastor Jim, to Bobby to Caleb and even some other people that Dean had never met. Everything was to no avail, as the wooded area that Sam was taken from remained silent to anything supernatural.
"Dad it's Christmas," Dean whispered out desperately.
"I know son," John took a step forward, and pulled Dean into a hug, "Everything will be ok-- Sammy will be ok."
Dean closed his eyes as he held onto his Dad, and would have stayed there for much longer if it weren't for the shout coming from the edge of the woods.
"John!" it was Bobby, "John!"
John immediately let go of Dean and ran over to his friend, "Bobby-- did you find him?"
Bobby shook his head, "No… but Caleb and I found the bones of the spirit." John's eyes widened, "It was that Atticus person who worked for the logging company. Apparently the workers who killed him just shoved his body into the ground near where the site used to be. We burnt the bones."
"Dad," Dean breathed, having heard the good news, "Does that mean that Sammy is free?"
John washed his hand over his face, "I don't know… I don't know what they did to…" John closed his eyes, his heart pounding.
Bobby placed a hand on John's shoulder, "He'll be ok John. You've done a fine job with your boys."
John nodded mutely.
"I'm going to find him," Dean declared suddenly, "I'm not going to sit on my ass and wait for some person to find my brother dead."
John knew that he should have gone after Dean; his eldest was too upset to be on proper guard for hunting. The only reason he didn't do this was because of the fact that the spirit of Atticus was gone now, and he knew it would do Dean some good to look on his own for a while.
It was dark by the time Dean found himself back at the car again. Bobby, Caleb and the rest of the searchers had left for the evening, and John announced that because the spirit was no longer in play, he was going to call the police the next morning.
"Can we stay just a little longer?" Dean asked as his Dad headed towards his truck.
John turned exhausted to Dean, "Why?"
Dean shook his head, "I don't know-- I just have a feeling. Please."
John nodded, knowing his boys had a special relationship that not even he understood, "Alright."
Dean went inside the Impala, and started up the car so as the headlights were on high beams and shooting out into the forest area. Taking que, John went back over to the truck and did the same before walking over to Dean.
"Merry Christmas Dad," Dean whispered staring out into the wooded area.
"Merry Christmas Dean."
It didn't seem like much time went by, and in fact, it had only been around half an hour before Dean's sensitive ears picked up a noise coming from just out of sight. John subconsciously pulled out his gun, but Dean took a step closer when the noise turned into movement of the leaves.
"Hello?" Dean called out.
An immediate burst of noise burst out to the father and son.
"Dean!!"
Before Dean could even make a reply, Sam's form clambered out from the trees. His chubby form from years gone by had since drawn to a tall and lanky figure with askew hair that the youngest seemed to enjoy keeping long in an attempt to aggravate his brother and father. Sam's figure now seemed even more skinny and pale, and his hair was messy and matted. Blood had soaked through his sweater in certain spots, and there looked to be a nice sized cut running across his forehead.
"Sammy!" Dean screamed out.
Sam had barely made it out into the grassy clearing before Dean had met up with him and grabbed Sam in a rib cracking hug. Sam squeezed his eyes shut in pain, but hugged back with all his might in a rare Winchester brother sentimental moment.
"Dean!" John shouted rushing over, "He could be hurt!"
Dean tried to pull Sam away, but the young hunter continued to hold on tightly, sobbing into Dean's shirt.
"Sammy," John breathed as he finally got to his two sons; the light from the vehicles shinning onto the reunion, "Sammy…"
John pried his youngest off of Dean as Sam now moved to John in a large hug. John held on tight, closing his own eyes as his tears wrestled with him.
"Sammy I need you to listen to me," John finally spoke hoarsely, "Sammy… look at me son."
Sam took a deep breath and obliged, and looked up at his Dad. John scanned up and down his youngest boys body, inspecting every inch from his dark matted hair, to his blue sweater, to his mud packed shoes.
"Sammy," John took his own deep breath, "Are you hurt?"
Sam's lower lip trembled slightly, "My head hurts a bit. But not that bad."
Dean walked around to inspect for himself the injuries of his little brother, and felt tears return again to his eyes. His brother had never looked so beat up before, and yet so gloriously alive and… Samish.
John ran a hand over the cut on Sam's forehead, "I'll clean it up and maybe put a stitch or two in when we get back."
Sam stared at his Dad a few more moments before he collapsed again into his strong arms and whispered softly, "I was so scared Dad."
John held tight onto Sam, one hand on the back of his head, "It's ok Sammy… you're ok. I've got you…"
Dean sniffled loudly and placed a hand on top of Sam's hair, brushing it back in a meager attempt to have physical contact with his brother that had been missing for far too long. Finally the family moment ended, and John knew that he had to get Sam back home to get some food into him, and to fix up the wounds properly.
"Do you want to ride back with me or Dean?" John asked looking at Sam carefully.
A small smile touched Sam's lips, "Dean?"
"Ok," John grinned at the answer he already knew as he turned to Dean, "You'll keep an eye on him?"
"Yes Sir."
"And make sure he doesn't drift off to sleep," John warned, "I want to take a good look at his head first."
"Ok," Dean nodded as John squeezed Sam's shoulder and walked off towards his truck.
Dean walked slowly to the Impala with his arm draped over Sam's shoulder. Sam leaned in affectionately to his big brother.
"I guess we're even now," Dean whispered out.
"What do you mean?" Sam turned to look at the red eyed Dean as they stopped outside the car.
Dean grinned and forced the tears out of his throat, "You're the best Christmas present I could have asked for Sammy."
December 25th, 1998
"Sammy!" Dean shouted from the front door, "Yo Sam!"
"What?!" Sam called from his room down the hall.
The younger brother could almost hear the smile in Dean's voice, "Your girlfriend is here."
Sixteen year old Sam thumped quickly out of his room, and skidded to a stop by the door. Before him stood, beside his brother, a beautiful girl. Her auburn wavy hair was half pulled up, and she wore a red and green miniskirt with white tights on underneath. A white button down blouse and long hanging necklace completed the Christmas look.
"Elizabeth," Sam grinned, "Hi."
Elizabeth smiled a perfect smile, "Hi Sam."
Shyly Sam held out a small box to her, and leaned in to kiss her gently on the cheek, "Merry Christmas."
"Oh Sam!" Elizabeth grinned, "Thank you!" She handed a tall wrapped present to Sam and winked, "My Dad helped me buy this."
Sam laughed, "Thanks. Why don't you come on in."
"Sure," Elizabeth slipped off her boots, and walked towards the living room.
"Not bad Sammy," twenty year old Dean mumbled quietly as he followed behind, "At least a nine."
Discreetly Sam shot his elbow backwards and smiled with satisfaction when he heard his brother's grunt. Once in the living room, Elizabeth opened her present and made a large fuss over the earrings Sam had bought. Sam, in turn, opened his present and got an immediate response from Dean as he pulled out a large bottle of rum.
"I can definitely help you there Sammy," Dean grinned.
"It's Sam," Sam correctly flatly.
"Hey Sam, Elizabeth--," John walked in from his previous location of the kitchen, "Super will be in about ten minutes."
"Ok Dad."
"Thank you Mr. Winchester," Elizabeth grinned politely.
It was Sam's first real girlfriend, and John had promised him that he'd make a nice Christmas dinner, and that he could invite Elizabeth over. Sam was nervous and excited about this idea. He knew his Dad was going to be going out just after dinner time on a hunt, and that would leave him alone with just Elizabeth and Dean.
Something he was not looking forward to.
Dinner went by without a hitch. John had bought a nice sized turkey, and, after two calls to Bobby and one to Pastor Jim, had cooked it to perfection. The actual eating went by smoothly for Sam; his family making friendly small talk, and laughing at memories gone by. It was when Sam knew that their Dad was going to be going that the youngest Winchester started to get nervous.
"Sam!" John called while they were still sitting in the kitchen enjoying some pumpkin pie, "I'm going to head out now, why don't you come in here for a minute!"
Sam walked into the living room, and went to the front door, "Yeah Dad?"
John had a bag flung over one shoulder, and made sure to check that Elizabeth wasn't watching before pulling a shot gun out from behind the door, "I'm going to be leaving now. I shouldn't be gone more than three or four days; Dean has a number to get me at. If I'm not back by Thursday, call Pastor Jim, and go over there, ok?"
Sam nodded, "Ok."
John looked past Sam at the kitchen before turning his attention back to his youngest, "And Sam?"
"Yeah?"
John had a sly look on his face, "Not over night, and keep the door open."
Sam rolled his eyes, "Bye Dad."
Almost immediately after John left, Elizabeth entered the room, and began to admire the small Christmas tree set up in the corner.
"I love the tree," she spoke softly, "Everything looks so handmade and special on it."
"Yeah," gently Sam took hold of her hand and lead her to one side, "Right here--" he pointed to the small blue ornament that claimed his name on it, "My Mom gave this to me the year I was born."
"Wow," Elizabeth fingered it softly, "It's beautiful."
Sam pointed out Dean's one as well, "That one's Dean's. They've always been really special."
Elizabeth smiled as Sam leaned in for a deep, passionate kiss. The Christmas day moment lasted only a few seconds before Sam heard someone clear their voice, and with a peeved expression, turned around to see Dean standing there.
"Hi," Dean grinned widely, "Can I talk to you for a second Sam?"
Sighing deeply, Sam excused himself and walked over to Dean, who still had a proud smile on his face for interrupting the moment.
"This better be important," Sam muttered.
"Oh it is," Dean nodded, "I wanted to let you know that I was going out for a while… a long while. And--" Dean pulled out a small wrapped package, "I got you something."
Sam's face softened in confusion, "But you already got me that book."
"I know," Dean nodded, "It's extra. Anyways-- I'm heading out," he winked, "I'll ring the bell before I come in."
Confused, Sam watched as his brother walked out of the door.
"Hey Sam," Elizabeth's voice rung with seduction, "I'm going to go to the bathroom. I'll be right back."
"Ok," Sam grinned widely, "I'll be waiting."
His girlfriend walked out of the room, and Sam looked down at the small package in his hand. It was smaller than even a ring box, and, wondering what the hell his brother was up to, Sam carefully opened it up.
His laugh could be heard all the way from the bathroom as Sam pulled out a condom from the Christmas wrapper. Yeah… this was going to be a great Christmas…
December 25th, 2000
"Sam, duck!" Dean shouted moments before sending two rounds of rock salt at the spirit that was going after Sam.
Sam was on the floor, and could feel the ammo whiz by his head and the spirit disappear in a puff of wind.
"You ok?" Dean keep his eye out as he helped Sam to his feet.
"Yeah," Sam breathed hard, "What do you think? Ghost of Christmas past, present or future?"
Dean stared at his brother, "How many Christmas' have you been waiting to use that joke?"
Sam laughed, "You really don't want to know."
"Alright," Dean rolled his eyes and glanced once more around the room; aiming his flashlight into all of the corners, "So that definitely looked like that Raymond dude."
"Yeah," Sam agreed, "But where the hell is Dad?"
"I don't know," the twenty-two year old brother sighed, "He keeps fricken taking off; which is pissing me off."
"You get mad at Dad?" Sam asked deadpan.
"Shut up Sammy, or I'll feed you back to the ghost of Christmas past," Dean shot out, "There's still two more spirits in here, and if Raymond decides to come back, it'll be three."
Sam grabbed his pistol from the rim of his pants; it held only silver bullets in them; something that did nothing against the spirits they were after, but if anything else, the look of it may frighten a spirit.
"Why did Dad decide to do this hunt on Christmas day?" Sam finally asked as they toured their way back through the abandoned house.
"Sam, you'd complain if we were doing this in the middle of July," Dean pointed out.
"I just don't see why we have to be the ones to hunt," Sam shrugged, keeping his ears open for any sign of the spirits, "There's lots of other people out there without kids who can hunt and do all of this."
"Sam we're not kids," Dean laughed, "You're eighteen, and I'm almost twenty-three dude. You were potty trained many years ago."
Sam frowned, but didn't say a word.
"Now what?" Dean stopped in exasperation, and turned towards his little brother, "Are you just going to be all grumpy, and selfish?"
"It's just not fair!" Sam cried out, "I mean-- I got an A+ in my pre-calc class, and all Dad was worried about was whether I'd finished my damn bow training."
"So?" Dean shrugged, "The man has priorities."
"Well he should get new ones!" Sam shot out, "I'd wish that he wasn't even my father, but he stopped being that years ago!"
"Grow up!" Dean's anger had reached it's limit, "You act like you hate the man! He's been nothing but good to us Sam!"
Sam scoffed, "Yeah… he's been great. You know what?-- I take that back. I do wish that he wasn't my Dad."
"I would beat the crap out of you right now if it wasn't for the fact that I have a job to do," Dean spoke threateningly in a manner that told Sam that he would have followed through with his words.
Silently the two brother's walked on for a few more minutes in silence. Dean didn't want to show worry or panic, but the fact that their Dad was nowhere to be seen or heard created a small cold feeling in his stomach which was growing.
They reached the front door, and finally Dean spoke, his voice shaking slightly, "Hey Sam-- go wait in the car."
Sam immediately sensed something was up, "Why? What's wrong?"
"Sam," Dean swallowed back the feelings that were threatening to come over him, "Just go."
Sam paused a long moment, "What about Dad?"
Dean looked back inside the house, "Sam…"
"He's missing," Sam whispered.
"Just go--" Dean began.
"No, I'll help," Sam spoke quickly, "Let me help Dean."
"Sam, you just finished saying how you didn't even want the man to be your father!" Dean shot out, "Now just go wait in the car!"
"No!" Sam cried out, "I was mad Dean! Just like I'm going to be mad at you if you don't let me help!"
Dean could see the panic in Sam's eyes, and reluctantly let him continue through a new search of the house.
"I'm sorry Dean," Sam whispered after a few minutes of searching the second floor, "… for everything I said."
"Yeah, well tell Dad that," Dean spat out, "He thinks you've been pissed at him lately."
"I will," Sam vowed.
The search didn't take long, and it was when they heard their Dad's shout and solid pound on a door that they realized that one of the spirits had locked him in a room.
"Dad!" Dean shouted outside of the door.
"Dean!" John shouted back, "The damn thing sealed the door!"
"Which one?" Dean called out.
"That one," Sam answered in a quiet voice grabbed Dean's arm.
Dean swung around and saw another spirit advancing on them. It wasn't Raymond, but one that looked similar enough to be his brother or another close relative. This one was also different, as it held a long bladed knife in his hand.
"Oh no," Dean muttered out.
"Dean!" Sam cried out, "Shoot it!"
Dean shot once, but the spirit did nothing but move faster towards the two Winchester siblings. Dean let out a shout and put his arms out to protect Sam in any way possible. Vaguely aware of the fact that their Dad was yelling out to them from inside the room, Sam stepped out from behind Dean's protection and pointed his gun at the spirit.
In an instant, the angered essence let out a loud screech, and twirled into oblivion; sending dust and dirt flying up in the air in its wake. Everything then fell silent.
"It worked…" Sam breathed out in shock.
The door to the room which was holding their Dad slowly creaked open then, and next thing either brother knew, their Dad burst through.
"Sam! Dean!" he cried turning towards them, his eyes wide, "Are you guys ok?"
Dean numbly nodded, still not sure what happened.
"We're ok Dad," Sam smiled and sighed in relief at the sight of his Dad, "What about you? We were worried that you got hurt."
"I'm alright," John confirmed, "The spirit locked me in there as a trap to get you boys," John noticed the blue bruise forming on Sam's left cheek, and stepped forward, "You're hurt Sammy."
Sam put his hand to his face, "Naw… it's fine. It was from Raymond downstairs. But we got him out."
John nodded and turned to his eldest, "Dean?"
Dean chuckled, his eyes turning red from the dust which began to settle, "I'm fine Dad. I just--" he looked at Sam, "How'd you know to do that?"
Sam grinned, "These guys-- the spirits… they were killed execution style. Some guy made them all line up, and he shot them all in the back of the head. So-- I figured maybe… if I pointed a hand gun at it, it would freak out and leave."
"Good job Sammy," Dean nodded in approval, and then, upon noticing the look Sam was giving, added quickly, "Listen-- I'm going to go wait in the car. I think we know that the spirits of the Michael brother's are the ones causing problems here, and… yeah."
Once Dean was out of sight, Sam looked at John, "Listen Dad… I'm sorry for everything I've said to you."
John smiled and squeezed Sam's shoulder, "I know son."
"It's just hard for me," Sam tried to explain, "I'm not like you and Dean."
"And we're not asking you to be," John insisted, "It's just sometimes you have to follow the rules. No matter how hard it is."
Sam nodded, "I know. I'm just… sorry."
John smiled, "It's ok Sammy-- just next Christmas… lets try and keep the drama and head butting to a minimum."
Sam returned the grin, "Merry Christmas Dad."
December 25th, 2003
"Dad this is stupid," Dean rolled his eyes, "Why don't you just go in there and talk to him?"
"I can't," was all John spoke in response.
"It's Christmas!" Dean reminded, "If the two of you can't stop your stupid arguing for the one day of the year, then you're both God damn--"
"Dean," John looked threateningly at his twenty-five year old son, "Drop it."
Dean sighed and watched at his Dad finished the final touches on the medium sized box. Not one person in the Winchester family was the least bit creative, but Dean had to admit-- the box was wrapped pretty good-- complete with a large, red festive bow.
"Do you want to take it up?" Dean asked softly, "Or do you want me to?"
John looked up from their place outside of the apartment building. He knew it was where Sam lived through simple investigation; though he'd never been inside. With a deep breath, he looked at Dean with an almost sad smile on his face.
"I'll take it up."
Dean nodded wordlessly as John got out of the car and walked across the street. Silent footsteps went up the stairs, and John placed the package outside the door. He could hear laughing and giggling coming from inside, and the faint sound of Christmas carols. Wishing more than ever that he could knock on the door and speak with a smile to his youngest, John sighed.
"Merry Christmas Sammy," John whispered out as he knocked on the door and quickly ran out of sight.
"Sam, did you hear that?" Jessica asked from inside the apartment.
"Yeah," twenty-one year old Sam opened the door and looked down at the box, "Someone left something at our door."
"What is it?" Jessica joined her boyfriend at the door.
"I dunno," Sam said quietly, though a feeling inside of him tugged at who he suspected, "There's no card or anything."
"Lets look," Jessica suggested simply as Sam picked up the box and took it into the living room.
Jessica had insisted, as per the year before, to decorate the place in a full-on Christmas fashion. And so the living room reminded Sam, painstakingly, of when he was younger, and he and Dean used to decorate the living room. The couple had even put up a Christmas tree in one corner which the two had spend a full afternoon decorating.
"Come on," Jessica grinned pulling at the wrapper.
Sam smiled at her enthusiasm, though he held more of a curiosity towards the box. Once unwrapped, Sam opened it up, and the two began to go through the contents.
"Oh wow," Jessica breathed, pulling out a stuffed bear holding onto a Christmas cup filled with chocolate kisses, "This is great. Sam, who sent it?"
Sam silently shook his head negatively as he pulled out some more items. A bottle of Jack Daniels sat in one corner along with some Maxim magazines. The gifts were easily separated into feminine and masculine items, and Sam suspected that whoever dropped it off knew who they were giving it to.
"I don't get it," Jessica finally whispered as they got near the bottom, "Who would do this for us?"
Tears sprang to Sam's eyes as he pulled out the last two items, "I think I know…"
Fore in each hand Sam held something different. His right held a ornament that had always seemed to be much bigger in his hand; a blue one with the inscription of Samuel Winchester written on it, and in the left; a red one reading none other than Dean Winchester.
December 25th, 2006
Twenty-eight year old Dean could still remember, if he tried hard enough, his first Christmas without his Mom. He remembered being sad a lot, and not wanting to do anything. He remembered his Dad tickling his stomach, and then him and baby Sammy sitting in front of the Christmas tree talking about their Mom and all of the stuff that they did. It was the first Christmas without his Mom, and Dean would never forget it. He knew, also, that he'd never forget this Christmas either.
The first without his Dad.
"Find anything Dean?" Sam asked walking into the hotel room they had rented out.
"Huh?" Dean snapped back to the present time as he looked up at his twenty-four year old brother.
Sam smiled, "Did you find a new gig for us?"
"No," Dean sighed and closed the laptop, "It's pretty quiet right now, so I guess we got a few days off."
Sam nodded and sat down on the bed; beer in hand, "What do you want to do?"
"I dunno," Dean shrugged, "I guess we could just… hang out."
"Hang out?" Sam raised his eyebrows, "Dean… are you ok?"
Dean nodded, and swallowed his emotions, "Yeah. I'm good." he paused, "Hey… do you remember how Dad always used to try and make Christmas special?"
Sam knew what was wrong now.
"Dean…" the younger made his own pause in words, "Dad doesn't want us to forget Christmas, but he was never really enthusiastic about it."
Dean laughed lightly, "Yeah… I guess you're right."
"I seem to recall one of them spent in the hospital waiting for your ass to wake up after you decided to fall of a roof," Sam teased.
"Pushed off," Dean corrected, "And I wasn't the only one who spent time on Christmas day in the hospital. You and your amazing disappearing act you pulled that one year-- Dad ended up taking you to the hospital for that."
"But it wasn't until the next day," Sam grinned teasingly, "I got to ruin Boxing Day."
"Whatever," Dean laughed, "But yeah… I guess we did have some interesting Christmas'…" he winked at Sam, "And some more interesting than others."
Sam blushed slightly, "Shut up."
"Hey, I rang the bell first," Dean stated, "You just got to learn to--"
"Shut up Dean," Sam insisted to Dean's wide grin.
Dean got up and grabbed his own beer from the fridge; making a mental note to buy some more when they had time. Everything was silent for a few moments before Dean felt it time to say something.
"Hey Sammy?"
"Humm?" Sam pried his eyes away from the fuzzy tv.
"I--" Dean cleared his throat, "I got something. I mean… I know we don't do the whole Christmas thing… but… I thought that something needed to be done."
Sam crinkled his forehead, "Needed to be done about what?"
"Dad," Dean whispered quietly.
Sam watched in silence as Dean walked over to his bag and pulled out a white grocery bag. Carefully he handed it over to Sam.
"Dean… what did you get?" Sam questioned.
"Just open it Sammy," Dean's voice was oddly hoarse.
Wordlessly Sam took out the item from inside the bag, and knew why Dean's voice was going the way it was. Unable to do his brother's task, tears fell silently down Sam's face as he held onto it a small green ornament. It was similar to both Sam and Dean's ornaments with a few differences. This one didn't depict that of a baseball player, or a train tugging along. Instead the ornament had the simple logo of Superman on it on one side. On the other side, written in gold was two words.
John Winchester.
"Merry Christmas Sammy," Dean whispered out.
Sam smiled sadly and ran his hand across his Dad's name, "…and to all a good night…"
The End.