Disclaimer: Santa said I could have them.

A/N: Happy holidays everyone! It's a few days after Christmas, but that's okay—this is my Christmas story. I've been slow at updating these past couple of years, but I wanted to make sure to give y'all a Christmas one. It's very similar to the one where Dean wrote Santa with what he wanted. This is Santa writing him back, haha. Well, I hope you all enjoy, and are having a wonderful holiday!

Title: Dear Dean
Genre: Humor? Some angst and fluff thrown in for good measure as well.
Summary: Santa finally writes back to Dean and lets him know what he's really given him over the years for Christmas.

Dear Dean

Dear Dean,

I'm sorry it's take me a while to get back to you… my elves have been slacking a bit… too much eggnog I think. I read over your list, and it's very good. I know you've been a good boy… or as good as you can… and so I wanted to let you in on a secret.

There's a lot of people in this world.

It would be absolutely impossible to give out gifts all in one night; my reindeer would have heart attacks! So to spare myself the trouble of getting a new staff every year, and to spread the love and joy, I give out gifts all year around to people; not just on December 25th. Now I understand that many people don't realize they're being given a gift if it happens on a random Thursday in July, so that's why, since you've been such a good boy Dean, that I'll let you in on some of the things I've given you over the years…

Gas for your 'baby'…

"Five bucks," Sam frowned looking in his wallet.

"Seriously?" Dean closed his eyes briefly and sighed as he leaned back in the chair.

"I'm sorry," Sam sincerely sounded apologetic, "I haven't had a chance to get some more money; we've been on the move so much lately."

"Well we're not going to be on the move much longer," Dean frowned, "That car has maybe an eighth of a tank left."

"Well what about you?" Sam asked placing the five on the old hotel table, "Don't you have any money left?"

Dean's cheeks burnt slightly pink, "Not after last night."

Sam glared.

"Well if we could get to the next down over, I could hustle some at the bar," Dean then accusatorily pointed out the window, "There's nothing in this town but this hotel and a gas station. This is literally a one horse town, and that horse is on its last breath Sam."

Sam laughed at this before suggesting, "Maybe we can earn some money here at the hotel? Clean a couple of rooms for some gas money."

"Actual work?" Dean frowned.

"Go ask," Sam shook his head, "I'm going to grab a shower."

Dean mumbled select cuss words under his breath as he walked out the door. Something in his brain told him to check the Impala, and never one to ignore his gut instincts, Dean opened the driver's side door. With careful thought, he grabbed his keys out of his leather jacket and stuck them in the ignition. With a loud roar the car came to life and stared up, and Dean stared mouth a gap at the dash.

The gas gauge now read three quarters.

There are a few things I know you haven't noticed that I've given you Dean. Some things don't even strike you as odd, but if you look back at some I promise you that Santa has been rewarding you for your good deeds out there. Let me give you a bit of advice though; try to keep track of how many bullets you have left in your gun…

"Three… two?... no, three," Dean mumbled to himself, his heart pounding in his chest.

The silver bullets that sat inside his clutched pistol had been flying out towards the werewolf, and Dean made an amateur mistake of losing count of how many he'd used.

"Think there's things a little more important than your counting skills Dean," Sam was breathing hard as his eyes darting around for the once again missing werewolf, "We gotta find this thing."

"Thanks Sam," Dean spoke dryly.

'Yeah… three bullets left… I think'

"Crap, Dean!" Sam suddenly cried out as the werewolf burst through some trees and he stumbled back.

Dean let out two quick shots and Sam let out one; both Winchester's missed.

"Damn it Sammy," Dean tried to run behind the beast to distract it, "Move!"

Sam got up and tried to shoot again, however heard just empty clicks as he'd made the same mistake as his brother.

"Dean, I'm out!" panic was laced in Sam's voice as the werewolf gave a throaty growl and moved closer.

Dean barely let the words register before he pointed his gun, at nearly point-blank range, at the creature and pulled the trigger.

An empty click.

"No!" Dean was sure his heart stopped as he stared a gap at the gun and werewolf that was currently less than a foot away from his brother.

"Dean!" Sam yelled.

'There was two… there was only two freaking bullets!'

In a last angst-filled effort, Dean pointed the gun again at the werewolf and pulled the trigger three consecutive times. The first two produced the same heart sinking click, however the third resulted with a loud 'pop'.

Silence then enveloped the night.

"Sammy?" Dean looked over at his brother who lay half on the ground, "Sam!"

"I'm good," Sam moved to his left and looked down at the werewolf laying on the moon splattered ground.

Dean slowly walked over and grabbed Sam's arm, pulling him further away from what almost had killed him. Curiously Dean stared back and forth between his gun and the dead werewolf.

"I thought you'd run out," Sam spoke quietly.

"I thought I did too," Dean shook his head, "Must've been one stuck in there."

Now I wanted to touch down on one of your requests. Socks that never get holes in them. Believe it or not, it's a lot easier just to give you new socks… why do you think that's the most popular Christmas gift out there?

Sometimes, however, there are things that are slightly more important than socks. Like new pants…

"Shut up Sam!" Dean roared.

"I…I…" Sam busted out into a fit of laughter, bending so low to the ground that he needed to place his hand out to steady himself.

"I swear to God I will shoot you Sam," Dean looked menacingly at his brother.

This only caused Sam to laugh harder and Dean stormed to the Impala a few feet away.

"I'm sorry Dean," Sam's voice squeaked out as he returned to an upright position and walked over, "It was just… in front of that girl… and…"

Tear forming laughter erupted from the youngest again as he leaned against the Impala for support.

"Seriously Sam!" Dean yelled.

Sam clearly wasn't going to calm down any time soon, and so Dean walked to the back of car and opened the trunk. Once away from his brother's view he let a small smile escape; it was a little funny. The two had been at the bar for an afternoon drink to cool down from the sweltering summer heat. Who Dean had declared was the most gorgeous blonde haired woman he'd ever seen struck up conversation with them and Sam had just noticed that Dean was starting to pull out his 'good pickup lines', when it happened. Dean had swiveled on his chair and knocked the woman's phone to the floor. With a charming smile Dean got up and stated that he'd bend down and get it for her.

The rip was heard throughout the bar.

Dean didn't even have to check to know that his pants had completely split from the crotch down his leg; the breeze told enough. The laughter had built up before Dean even got up to a standing position, and Dean made eye contact with no one except his laughing brother as he made a beeline towards the door.

"It wasn't that bad Dean," Sam had managed to compose himself slightly as he walked towards Dean.

"Shut it Sam," Dean frowned, "And I don't even have any more pants. That was my last pair!"

Sam shrugged, "Grab a pair of mine."

"Sure thing jolly green giant," Dean shot out.

Dean continued to rummage through their bags and was just about to take Sam up on his offer when he saw an old Walmart bag shoved in the back of the trunk. Curious he grabbed the bag.

"When did we go to Walmart?" Dean frowned.

Sam returned the facial expression, "I don't remember going there any time lately."

Opening the bag Dean found a new pair of jeans, "Hey!" a smile spread to his face, "Some good luck!"

Quickly Dean stepped out of his ripped pants and slipped on the perfectly fitted jeans. He had no more done this than a voice spoke up.

"Excuse me?"

Dean looked over to see the blonde from the bar walking over.

"Hey…" Dean cleared his throat.

Sam laughed again to which he promptly received an elbow to the stomach.

"You left so suddenly," the woman smiled, "I never got your name."

Dean grinned widely, "Dean."

The lady stuck out her hand, "Ellie… nice to meet you. Care to finish off that drink?"

The most important gift Dean, is the one that keeps on giving though. I won't lie, it's been a tough one to keep up with, but I know it's what makes you happiest…

"Sammy!" Dean screamed, his voice hitching painfully in his throat.

Never in his entire life had Dean wished that he could hear his brother's voice, but all that answered was silence. A cricket chirped in the night air, and Dean's brain whirled with what had happened. It all seemed to go bad so fast; the two had been chasing after a tengu deep in the forested area of Colorado. The demonic part bird, part canine creature was tough, and though the brothers had destroyed its leathery wings with a flamethrower, its powerful legs turned and gave chase on the Winchesters. Dean saw, more than heard his little brother's cry from twenty feet ahead of him, and when Dean got to the spot, his stomach turned to ice.

A hundred foot drop-off sat at the edge of the now empty clearing.

"Sam!" Dean fumbled for his flashlight which had been hastily put into his pocket, "No… no, no, no…"

Hands trembling, Dean turned on the powerful light and crept towards the edge. Tears blurred his vision; they'd seen the edge before as they'd looked through the area during the daytime and Dean knew there was no way anyone could survive the fall.

"Sammy," Dean whispered, "God… I'm so sorry. I should have never suggested this case."

But hindsight was 20-20, and Dean feared what he's see when he looked over. Was his light powerful enough to illuminate the bottom? When Dean finally did looked down over the sharp edge his brow furrowed; the light hit the bottom and though he saw the twisted and mangled form of the tengu, there was no sign of his brother.

"Dean…" a strained voice floated up.

Jerking his light to the sound, Dean gasped as he saw, not even ten feet below, Sam hanging precariously off the side of the cliff.

"Sammy!" Dean cried out immediately dropped down to his knees.

"Dean," Sam breathed hard, "…help…"

Heart hammering, Dean slid the bag off from his back and opened it up. The basic survival necessities were always kept inside and Dean was unbelievably thankful this included a rolled up piece of rope. He immediately wrapped one end around his arm several times before tossing it over the edge and firmly holding it with both hands.

"Sammy!" Dean shouted, his voice cracking, "Can you reach it?"

"Yeah…" the grunt was heard moments before weight on the rope threatened to send Dean over the edge.

It was the longest two minutes of Dean's life as he leaned back in an almost laying position in an attempt to counter-act the weight of his far from small little brother. So many things could go wrong; the rope could break, Sam could lose his grip and fall, Dean could lose his grip, or the two could both be pulled straight over the edge. None of these things happened though, and Sam managed to climb up the ten feet. The moment solid ground was felt under his hands and knees, Dean was there and pulling Sam into a hug.

"I thought I'd lost you Sammy," Dean held tight.

Sam patted his back reassuringly, "You almost did."

Dean moved back and sat looking at his brother has he ran a hand over his face in an attempt to hide his emotions, "Are you alright? Are you hurt?"

Sam felt many forming bruises, bleeding lacerations, and perhaps even a cracked rib or two but nothing, he knew, that was an immediate issue, "I'll be okay. You?"

Dean nodded, "I'm good now that I know your ass didn't just freefall a hundred feet. Can you stand?"

"Yeah."

Dean was to his feet within seconds to be sure that Sam spoke the truth before speaking again, "Dude, what happened?"

Sam shook his head, "I got no clue. Last thing I remember is that thing had tackled me, and we both rolled off the edge. Next thing I knew I was on this tiny little lip along the cliff."

"Thank God," Dean's voice was laced with emotions as he patted Sam's shoulder, "C'mon… let's get you back to the hotel. We'll clean up this mess tomorrow."

Family is the greatest gift of all Dean.

Cherish it all year around, and I promise I'll get my elves to work on those hole-less socks.

Ho, ho, ho.

Sincerely, Santa

The End.