- 08
[The carolers have worked their magic yet again and sent Dean off to sleep.
Fade in on a cozy living room in what must be a nice house - Sam's house, to be exact; one can tell by all the bookshelves - , a lush Christmas tree complete with lights and decorations standing a few feet away from a crackling fire. A couch sits across from the fire, and on the couch sit four people: one is Dean, one is Sam, one is Jessica and one is Lisa. Both boys - looking slightly older than their current mid-twenties selves - sit with their arms around their respective girls (though if one noticed the wedding rings, wives), watching as three children sit on the floor tearing Christmas presents open, shouts of joy and surprise coming from the kids.
The four of them would be talking, but they seem to be perfectly content watching their offspring (two are Sam and Jessica's and one is, of course, Ben, the spitting image of his father) happy, safe, fighting over presents.
There's a knock at the door that draws the adults' attention away, and Sam and Dean seem to be making a quick unvocalised decision before Dean chooses to stand up and walk out to the doorway.
"Hey guys, guess who's here."
Framed by the gently falling snow outside are Mary and John Winchester looking a little older, a little greyer, but both smiling. Both alive.
The kids have abandoned their presents for the moment, because they're running to the door and all three of them are trying to get into Mary and John's arms at once. Sam has followed them out, and he stops to stand by Dean, smiling. They watch as their parents hug and kiss each of the children, then, as Sam asks them to go back in the living room, they hug their parents as well.
It feels so real, and for a moment it hurts.
But then later they're all sitting around the dining room table, a delicious-looking turkey sitting still uncarved in the middle of it. The Winchesters are about to say grace, hands held around the table. And after a lightning round of 'not me', Dean's been voted to say it. Pausing, taking a thoughtful breath, he closes his eyes.
He has so much to be grateful for.
But the scene begins to fade as he drifts into wakefulness yet again, and eventually the dream will be nothing more than dregs of a memory.]
Fade in on a cozy living room in what must be a nice house - Sam's house, to be exact; one can tell by all the bookshelves - , a lush Christmas tree complete with lights and decorations standing a few feet away from a crackling fire. A couch sits across from the fire, and on the couch sit four people: one is Dean, one is Sam, one is Jessica and one is Lisa. Both boys - looking slightly older than their current mid-twenties selves - sit with their arms around their respective girls (though if one noticed the wedding rings, wives), watching as three children sit on the floor tearing Christmas presents open, shouts of joy and surprise coming from the kids.
The four of them would be talking, but they seem to be perfectly content watching their offspring (two are Sam and Jessica's and one is, of course, Ben, the spitting image of his father) happy, safe, fighting over presents.
There's a knock at the door that draws the adults' attention away, and Sam and Dean seem to be making a quick unvocalised decision before Dean chooses to stand up and walk out to the doorway.
"Hey guys, guess who's here."
Framed by the gently falling snow outside are Mary and John Winchester looking a little older, a little greyer, but both smiling. Both alive.
The kids have abandoned their presents for the moment, because they're running to the door and all three of them are trying to get into Mary and John's arms at once. Sam has followed them out, and he stops to stand by Dean, smiling. They watch as their parents hug and kiss each of the children, then, as Sam asks them to go back in the living room, they hug their parents as well.
It feels so real, and for a moment it hurts.
But then later they're all sitting around the dining room table, a delicious-looking turkey sitting still uncarved in the middle of it. The Winchesters are about to say grace, hands held around the table. And after a lightning round of 'not me', Dean's been voted to say it. Pausing, taking a thoughtful breath, he closes his eyes.
He has so much to be grateful for.
But the scene begins to fade as he drifts into wakefulness yet again, and eventually the dream will be nothing more than dregs of a memory.]