AN: Another Christmas story? Really, Woomie?!

Yes, really. I can't help myself. It's short...and no, I did not abandon Triskaidekaphobia. Promise.

Janice willingly beta'd this despite the busy season. Thanks, Janice!

Once again, have a happy All of the Things.

* * *

John hated being in New York City. He hated all cities, actually. Crowds made him jumpy since he'd learned that a lot of dangerous things could disguise themselves as regular human beings. But there was specialty Hunters' shop here that had a book that John wanted desperately. It was one of only two copies known to exist and the other was in a private collection.

The shop owner, a man who went by the mononym Trace, told John he had another offer on the book and wouldn't hold it more than a day.

So John had packed up his boys and high-tailed it to the big city without a chance to park his kids someplace safe.

The shop was on a pedestrian only street, which meant they had to walk over a mile in the cold. The boys' coats weren't bad, but they didn't have snow boots and their mittens were only the knitted kind. Still, they didn't complain. Dean was almost as twitchy as John felt, but Sammy was enchanted by the fairy lights on the street light poles and all of the bright windows full of Christmassy decorations and was fascinated by the seemingly endless hustle and bustle of the throngs of people hurrying about their business amid the tall skyscrapers, all so different from the small rural towns and residential suburbia where they usually found themselves.

The shop they wanted was set back a little and none of the bustling shoppers were stopping there, probably because the sign was so old it was illegible and the cramped little building had only a single, dirty window.

John narrowed his eyes as he studied it. It gave off a feeling he couldn't put his finger on, and he knew for a fact that he didn't want this "Trace" to catch even a glimpse of his sons if he could help it.

He turned to a street vendor and bought two little cones of fragrant roasted chestnuts. "Stay out here, boys," he ordered, giving each son one of the treats. "I won't be long and I'll be able to see you through the window."

"Yessir," they chorused, thrilled to have a sweet, warm treat. John didn't indulge in such things often, but this would help keep them warmed and occupied, and they really had done a good job of walking along with him.

Trace was as creepy-looking as expected, but the book was the real deal and he didn't try to scam John or engage in pointless small talk.

The book and a few other treasures had exchanged hands and John was just beginning to feel relief that it was over when someone outside yelled and seemingly the entire street's worth of people took off in one direction. As John looked up in concern, he saw Sam get caught up in the rush, his hand getting ripped out of Dean's. By the time John was out the door, Dean was disappearing into the crowd after his brother. All that was left behind was one of Sammy's little red mittens.

WINCHESTER * WINCHESTER

H. P. Lovecraft called Bokrug one of "The Great Old Ones," but even he had no idea how much power it has.

Bokrug slumbers beneath the water, waking every 131 years. When he does, he takes a human guise and looks for a reason to not destroy the Earth. There have been a few close calls, but every time, he's found enough evidence of warmth and love to return to his slumber.

That almost changed on December 4, 1989.

As he came up through the sharply cold, salty water, Bokrug saw trash everywhere. At the surface, there was an oily film that clung to his skin. He climbed ashore and effortlessly took a form that would fit in here, grumpily cleaning himself in the process.

Almost immediately, Bokrug was assaulted by light and noise. He headed toward the worst of it, needing to see what the humans were up to. He passed men in hard hats arguing loudly about working short-handed and being away from their families. This soured Bokrug further.

The more he walked in the ever-increasing crowds, the more disgruntled and disillusioned Bokrug felt. He could sense that it was supposed to be a time of cheer and kindness, but all he could feel was annoyance and busy-ness. In his already foul mood, it seemed to Bokrug as if humanity had nothing left but competition and irritation.

Then a ripple seemed to run through the crowd. "It's going to be done early," someone said and others took up the call, and a whole mob of people hurried toward...something.

Though he looked like a nondescript human man, people instinctively gave Bokrug a wide berth, saving him from the jostling everyone else was experiencing. Until suddenly, something crashed into his legs. He looked down to see a child had tripped into him. Safe in the little bubble of space around Bokrug, the small boy was able to right himself.

"Thorry, thir," he said, looking up through hair that stuck out from underneath his hat. "I didn't mean to run into you."

"No harm done," Bokrug said slowly. He hadn't tried out his human voice yet this trip. In fact, he rarely used it at all.

The child, apparently not frightened in the slightest, smiled widely, revealing a space where front teeth should have been, the reason for his lisp. He held out a mittened hand – the other was bare – with a small cone with a handful of roasted nuts. "Would you like thome? There aren't a lot left, but you can have them."

Bokrug was unexpectedly touched. The child wasn't quite as well-kept as most of those around him. His coat was patched at both elbows and his shoes were inadequate. He was clearly lost, but he wanted to share.

"How do you eat those with no teeth?" Bokrug asked, genuinely curious. He took one and ate it to be polite and found it tasted good to the human taste buds.

The boy grinned again. "That'th what my brother thaid." The smile fell. "I got lotht from my dad and brother when all the people ran. Dean mutht be coming, but I can't thee him cuz there'th tho many people."

Bokrug considered that. "If I lift you up, maybe you can see them," he offered, not sure if the child would accept.

"Would you? Pleathe?" He chewed his lip. "I'm not thuppothed to talk to thtrangerth, but I do need help."

Bokrug offered a hand to shake. "I am Bokrug."

The child shook it solemnly. "I'm Tham."

"Now we aren't strangers," Bokrug informed him. "We've shared food and our names." He crouched and opened his arms in invitation and Tham stepped to him willingly.

"There! I thee Dean!" The boy waved his covered hand wildly. "Dean! Dean! I'm thafe! Oh, there'th Dad too. Dad! Dean!"

"Sam!" A bigger boy in the crowd noticed the waving, then a man a little farther away. Fighting through people, who were standing still now, they both reached Bokrug at the same time. He immediately handed the boy to the man to prove he'd meant no harm.

"He got swept up in the crowd and needed a better vantage point to find you two," Bokrug explained, He saw that the bigger boy – Dean, certainly – was blinking back tears as he took the missing mitten from where it was protruding out of their father's pocket and put it on his brother's hand, earning himself one of Sam's blinding smiles.

"Thank you for helping him," said the man. He held out his hand and Bokrug shook it the same way he'd shaken Tham's – no, Sam's. When they touched, the man studied him for a moment, as if sensing something, but didn't say anything.

Bokrug nodded in acknowledgment of the gratitude, then shook the brother's hand too. "He knew you would come," he told Dean, then turned to leave. He could feel the older boy's protectiveness. The love Bokrug could feel from the little family was the reminder he'd needed that there was plenty of good that came from humanity.

At that moment, the enormous tree that everyone was staring at lit up from top to bottom. Over the ooh's and aah's of the crowd, Bokrug could hear both Sam and Dean gasp. He didn't look at the tree, just at the reflection of all the lights in the eyes of the boys and their father. And he was appeased.

It was surely time to return to his rest. Bokrug slipped away through the crowd.

With his new perspective, he realized that even the harried shoppers were also thinking of their loved ones. As he passed the dock workers, he paid closer attention and discovered that their griping was just a cover for worry for a coworker who'd been injured.

Buoyed by what he'd seen, Bokrug went back to the depths.

And the world turned another day.