Wishing you all a Merry Christmas! Present included.
Friends, Romans, Fl*sters as it tis the season to be jolly I'm here binging you a little gift! But first of all, many thanks to all of you who sent me their best wishes at this sad time for Steve.It is much appreciated, and I promise I will be sending comments very soon.
Now for my other reason for turning up at this ridiculously late hour, yesterday I started this little scribble, and I actually managed to finish it tonight! A whole little ficlet and I didn't keep changing my bloody mind. So I'm going to post it here, as a little thank you for all your support. I know it's as rough as a badger's bum, but I thought what the hell it's Christmas, I'm sure they'll forgive me.
If you guys like it, I will get it beta'd properly, and send it out to play with the other kids soon.
Merry Christmas to one and all.
Comfort and Joy
Sam moved quietly round the motel room, despite what Dean thought he didn’t crash round like a drunken moose all the time. When the occasion called for he could be stealthy, and right now that’s what was needed. The slightest sound could alert his quarry and he didn’t want that, he wanted what he was doing to be a surprise.
There was a sound from the bed and Sam froze, he cast an anxious glance over his shoulder he really didn’t want Dean to wake up just yet. Dean muttered something and the furrow in his brow deepened. Sam tensed wondering if his brother was about to slip into a nightmare, another chance for him to relive forty years of hell in glorious 3D, surround sound, high definition. Sam started to turn ready to go to Dean’s side, and try to calm him if the dream became too bad. He relaxed when he realized Dean wasn’t dreaming, but was trying to ease the discomfort in his battered body.
Sam sighed softly it said something about how screwed up their lives were now, that he was happy that Dean’s pain was only physical and nothing to do with memories of hell. He waited to see if his brother would settle down or if he needed anything, he relaxed when the pained expression softened. As Dean once again slipped back into a deep dreamless sleep. It had been worth the epic throw down earlier to get Dean to take his painkillers, it meant he got some much needed rest. It also meant Sam had been able to get the room ready.
He returned to what he was doing, and soon he was humming softly to himself. He pressed home another drawing pin, one more and he’d be done. Then he’d wake Dean up and show him his surprise. Sam pushed himself away from the wall and surveyed his hard work; the once drab, dull motel room resembled the Dean Winchester idea of Santa’s grotto.
This menat the room was covered in streamers and there were decorations everywhere. He’d been buying and stashing them in his bag for the last month or so. He’d even managed to get his hands on a fairly decent tree.
Last Christmas when he’d done something similar, it had been Dean’s last Christmas before he went to hell, and it had been a bitter sweet experience. He remembered his brother’s smile as he opened his present, and the sheer joy of sitting watching the game with him. Despite the circumstances, the day had given Sam some good memories.
This year though, he had something to celebrate. Dean was back topside with him, and now with Ruby’s help he had every intention of sending that bitch Lilllith back to hell. He was going to stop her breaking the seals that would break Lucifer out of hell, and she was going to pay for what she had done to his brother. Thinking of Ruby, Sam pulled his phone out of his pocket and turned it off. Nothing was going to disturb what he had planned for the evening.
Sam walked over to the bed and looked down at Dean, a pang of guilt flaring in his gut. This Christmas should’ve been relatively peaceful, there was no deal hanging over their heads. But instead they were racing at break neck speed to try and save the world. The worst of it was Dean hadn’t gotten hurt trying to prevent another seal being broken. He’d been hurt on just an ordinary hunt.
Dean was sleeping the sleep of the happily medicated, his face a patchwork of bruises and scratches. The bedclothes hid the worst of his injuries, Sam knew under the comforter there was an impressive set of ragged wounds. They ran up across Dean’s body, and came from the claws of the black dog they’d just been hunting.
Sam huffed in frustration, anger and concern warring with one another as he looked at his brother. It had been another act of big brotherly protection, which had landed Dean in bed. They’d tracked the black dog and cornered it. He was juiced up on Ruby’s blood and was at his strongest. He was ready to take the shot, when he’d heard a soft growling from behind him. He’d stiffened at the sound, there had been two black dogs, unexpected yes but not unheard of. And they had him trapped between them.
Sam squared his shoulders, and pulled the trigger putting a bullet right in the heart of the one in front of him. As he spun to take out the other one, he’d slipped on the muddy ground.
Sam crashed to his knees and lost his gun, he’d looked right into a pair of red eyes and slavering jaws. Sam reached down into himself to summon his powers, he knew he was going against Dean’s wishes. But if he was out of commission, then who would protect Dean? Ever since he’d returned from hell he hadn’t been the same, more tentative, uncertain. Being pressured by Castiel and the other angels, the cracks were beginning to show. Now it was up to him to step in, and take care of his brother.
As the power crackled through his veins, the black dog had leapt for him but it never reached its target. Dean appeared and tackled it in mid air, the two of them rolling over and over in the dirt. Sam was unable to get a clear shot; he’d stood helpless when Dean had let a guttural yell when the dog’s claws had sunk into his belly. Then Dean had fired his gun twice, and the dog jerked before collapsing heavily on top of him.
Sam stayed routed to the spot, the scene had been too reminiscent of when the hell hounds had torn his brother apart. He was only galvanised into action when Dean had moaned, and tried weakly to push the dead weight off him. Sam ran over and hauled the carcass off him, and frantically tore at Dean’s clothes to see how bad the injuries were. There were four deep gouges running from Dean’s hip to his ribcage, Sam could see they would need stitches. But for once luck was on their side, they shouldn’t need to head for the hospital. He’d gone to pick Dean up and get them out of there, but his hard headed jackass of a brother had refused telling him to burn the bodies.
It was the quickest salt and burn in the history of hunting, as Sam kept looking over to where Dean was propped against a tree with his shirt pressed against his body. Once Dean was happy Sam had got him to his feet, holding him as he got his breath back. Dean gritted his teeth, as he started to shuffle slowly towards the Impala. Sam counted the steps until finally Dean’s eyes had rolled back, and he’d folded in on himself.
Sam shifted his hold on his brother, sliding his one arm behind his knees the other behind his shoulders. He lifted Dean with ease cradling him gently against his chest. Sam silently thanked all the extra training he’d done after Dean had gone, and now carrying his brother’s lean but well muscled body was relatively easy. It hadn’t taken Sam long to carry Dean to the car, when they’d arrived back at the motel. Sam had ignored his brother’s protests, as he’d carried him to the room, and deposited him on the bed.
Then Sam had cut Dean’s clothes off, biting his lip when he’d been confronted with the evidence of his arrogance. He hadn’t properly checked how many black dogs there were, and Dean had bled for his mistake. While he’d cleaned and stitched, Dean had hummed tunelessly to himself, his eyes fixed firmly on the ceiling. The only other sound he made was to ask if Sam was alright.
Sam hadn’t known whether to laugh or cry at his brother’s earnest enquiry, with the demon blood coursing through his veins he was more than just alright. But even with all that power at his disposal, he hadn’t been able to prevent Dean from getting hurt. He’d really have to talk to Ruby about more training, if he was to keep Dean safe in future.
After he’d finished patching Dean up, he’d put him in bed and let him rest. Of course Dean being Dean, his brother had then developed an infection. For two days Sam had sat beside him, putting ice filled bags around him, bathing him with cool water and forcing antibiotics down him. As Dean had burned with fever, he’d whispered brokenly about the cold loneliness of hell. Pleading softly for help he knew wouldn’t come. Too afraid to call for Sam, in case it brought Alistair back to play with him, along with his bag of tricks and razors. Sam had begun to suspect being ripped apart day after day, hadn’t been the reason Dean had broken. It had been more to do with whose face Alistair had been wearing, when he’d carved into Dean’s flesh.
Then finally earlier today the fever had mercifully broken, and for the first time in days when Dean had opened his eyes they were a clear. Instead of the murky, dulled eyes he’d seen roving desperately round the room, looking for demons. The first thing Dean had done was focus on Sam and said, “You ok Sammy?” His voice a breathy whisper, as he’d looked his brother over for injury.
“I’m fine Dean, which is more than I can say for you. You gotta stop letting those things use you as a chew toy.” Sam said relief washing over him, as Dean managed a tired smile. Then he’d called him a girl, for getting all teary eyed over him.
That was when Sam had decided they were staying put here until after Christmas, and he’d put his plans for the holiday in motion. He’d set about organizing a Christmas meal for them, sweet talking the lady at the dinner down the block into to putting a couple of plates of turkey and all the trimmings up for them. He’d also got pie for desert, all he’d have to do was warm it up. He had managed to sneak out when Dean had fallen asleep, and brought him a Christmas present. He would give it to him tonight once he was fully aware. Finally he’d decorated the room, there was tinsel everywhere along with streamers and the lopsided tree he’d picked up on his way back from his gift and food run.
Sam was ready, now all he had to do was wake up sleeping beauty; he stood by the bed and watched Dean as he slept. He couldn’t help himself; it was partly because he still couldn’t believe Dean was back. After Dean had died, the world had become a muted, cold place. When his big brother had breezed into that motel room and hugged him, the colour and warmth had flooded back into his world. Even though Dean’s own colours and fire were more subdued these days, he was here. Sam basked in his still larger than life presence.
Sam carried on drinking in the sight of his brother, and he marvelled at how young Dean looked as he slept. The lines of pain, fatigue, and the stress he carried constantly were smoothed away. His long girly eyelashes fanning against still too pale cheeks, without thinking Sam reached out and pushed a few errant strands of hair off Dean’s forehead. He frowned as his fingers brushed gently at too warm skin. The fever still hadn’t gone completely, and his gentle touch made Dean’s eyelids flutter. Sam stopped moving afraid he would wake him.
When Dean didn’t wake, Sam caressed his cheek just to check how bad the fever was he told himself. His brother leant into the comforting touch, and Sam wished that just once his brother would accept comfort without seeing it as a sign of weakness. Sam knew the only way he could get close to Dean like this was, was when he was hurt or sick. He wanted just once to hold Dean, without either of them being about to die.
Dean took a deep breath and once again his eyelids fluttered. Sam knew he was about to wake, and regretfully he moved his hand away. Dean blinked several times, each time his eyes staying open a little longer. Finally he managed to keep them open, and he struggled to focus on Sam.
“Hey there about time you woke up, I thought you were gonna sleep through till the New Year dude.” Sam said with a smile.
Dean lifted his hand and grimaced in pain as his stitches pulled, he rubbed at his eyes and yawned. “Wha’s up Sammy, you get bored or something?” Dean went to say something else, and then he saw the motel room. He looked round the tinsel festooned room in shock, and then he caught sight of the Christmas tree. He looked up at Sam who was beaming at him, and almost bouncing on the spot, “Sammy?”
“As it looks like we’re gonna be stuck here for a few days, I thought I’d brighten the place up for you. Do you like it? Hang on a minute I’ve got a little something for you.” Sam said as he turned, and headed for his duffle bag. He picked it up, and put it on his bed and searched through it.
Sam turned back a look of triumph on his face; he walked back to Dean’s bed. He held out a package wrapped in newspaper, “Merry Christmas Dean, I know it’s early but whenever had we been traditional?” He said with a smile.
Dean looked at Sam in shock, and he reached out with shaking hands. He looked at the brightly decorated room, and then back at Sam. “Am I dying or something?” He asked in a shaky voice.
Sam’s heart rate rocketed, and he sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. He grabbed Dean’s hand, “Fuck what’s wrong? I knew I should’ve taken you to the hospital. Come on, I can get us there in five minutes.” Sam pulled frantically at the bed clothes.
“Whoa, whoa there Sammy, I’m fine it’s just what’s with all the Christmas Spirit? Aren’t you the boy who hates Christmas?” Dean smirked at him.
“Dean you jackass, you nearly gave me a fucking heart attack.” Sam shrugged and picked at the comforter, “It’s just I wanted to have a Christmas with you, without all the crap we had last year. I can take your present back, and get the decorations down if you want.” He reached for the present.
Dean snatched it back and clutched it to his chest, “Only if you want to lose your fingers, and you touch that tree, and there is Nair in your future.” He said with a growl.
“Well come on, don’t keep me waiting. Open your present.” Sam nodded towards the parcel.
Dean tried to push himself up the bed, but his arms shook with strain. Sam stood and wrapped his arms round him, and gently lifted him higher. And so what if he held on a little longer than he should have, he was still getting over Dean’s little joke from a moment ago. Sam stepped back, sat down and waited.
Dean took the hint and fell on the package, tearing at the paper excitedly. His face lit up when he saw what was inside, “Sammy this is awesome, thank you so much. Where the hell did you get this little beauty?” Dean lifted the hunting knife to the light, examining the keen blade with his thumb.
“That hunting and fishing store in the last town, I saw this and I knew you’d lost yours the last time we tangled with vamps. Do you like it?” Sam looked at him hopefully.
“I love it Sammy, thanks man.” Dean hadn’t seen his brother look so happy in a long time, and that was an even better present than the knife. It was good to have that Sammy back again.
The smile on Sam’s face grew even brighter, he reached for the remote and pointed it at the television, “And just to make tonight complete, your favourite Christmas movie is about to start.”
“Shit really? Oh man I love Gremlins. Sam this is one of the best Christmas’ ever.” Dean slumped back against his pillows, a weary but happy expression on his face. Then he frowned, “Sam, I haven’t got you anything, dude I’m sorry.” Dean edged over a little, and he patted the bed, “Come on Sam get your ass up here, and watch Gizmo with me.”
Sam moved up the bed and lay pressed up against Dean on the small bed, as he settled down to watch the movie he said. “It’s alright you didn’t have to buy me anything. I got the best gift of all this year, you’re here with me.”
Now for my other reason for turning up at this ridiculously late hour, yesterday I started this little scribble, and I actually managed to finish it tonight! A whole little ficlet and I didn't keep changing my bloody mind. So I'm going to post it here, as a little thank you for all your support. I know it's as rough as a badger's bum, but I thought what the hell it's Christmas, I'm sure they'll forgive me.
If you guys like it, I will get it beta'd properly, and send it out to play with the other kids soon.
Merry Christmas to one and all.
Comfort and Joy
Sam moved quietly round the motel room, despite what Dean thought he didn’t crash round like a drunken moose all the time. When the occasion called for he could be stealthy, and right now that’s what was needed. The slightest sound could alert his quarry and he didn’t want that, he wanted what he was doing to be a surprise.
There was a sound from the bed and Sam froze, he cast an anxious glance over his shoulder he really didn’t want Dean to wake up just yet. Dean muttered something and the furrow in his brow deepened. Sam tensed wondering if his brother was about to slip into a nightmare, another chance for him to relive forty years of hell in glorious 3D, surround sound, high definition. Sam started to turn ready to go to Dean’s side, and try to calm him if the dream became too bad. He relaxed when he realized Dean wasn’t dreaming, but was trying to ease the discomfort in his battered body.
Sam sighed softly it said something about how screwed up their lives were now, that he was happy that Dean’s pain was only physical and nothing to do with memories of hell. He waited to see if his brother would settle down or if he needed anything, he relaxed when the pained expression softened. As Dean once again slipped back into a deep dreamless sleep. It had been worth the epic throw down earlier to get Dean to take his painkillers, it meant he got some much needed rest. It also meant Sam had been able to get the room ready.
He returned to what he was doing, and soon he was humming softly to himself. He pressed home another drawing pin, one more and he’d be done. Then he’d wake Dean up and show him his surprise. Sam pushed himself away from the wall and surveyed his hard work; the once drab, dull motel room resembled the Dean Winchester idea of Santa’s grotto.
This menat the room was covered in streamers and there were decorations everywhere. He’d been buying and stashing them in his bag for the last month or so. He’d even managed to get his hands on a fairly decent tree.
Last Christmas when he’d done something similar, it had been Dean’s last Christmas before he went to hell, and it had been a bitter sweet experience. He remembered his brother’s smile as he opened his present, and the sheer joy of sitting watching the game with him. Despite the circumstances, the day had given Sam some good memories.
This year though, he had something to celebrate. Dean was back topside with him, and now with Ruby’s help he had every intention of sending that bitch Lilllith back to hell. He was going to stop her breaking the seals that would break Lucifer out of hell, and she was going to pay for what she had done to his brother. Thinking of Ruby, Sam pulled his phone out of his pocket and turned it off. Nothing was going to disturb what he had planned for the evening.
Sam walked over to the bed and looked down at Dean, a pang of guilt flaring in his gut. This Christmas should’ve been relatively peaceful, there was no deal hanging over their heads. But instead they were racing at break neck speed to try and save the world. The worst of it was Dean hadn’t gotten hurt trying to prevent another seal being broken. He’d been hurt on just an ordinary hunt.
Dean was sleeping the sleep of the happily medicated, his face a patchwork of bruises and scratches. The bedclothes hid the worst of his injuries, Sam knew under the comforter there was an impressive set of ragged wounds. They ran up across Dean’s body, and came from the claws of the black dog they’d just been hunting.
Sam huffed in frustration, anger and concern warring with one another as he looked at his brother. It had been another act of big brotherly protection, which had landed Dean in bed. They’d tracked the black dog and cornered it. He was juiced up on Ruby’s blood and was at his strongest. He was ready to take the shot, when he’d heard a soft growling from behind him. He’d stiffened at the sound, there had been two black dogs, unexpected yes but not unheard of. And they had him trapped between them.
Sam squared his shoulders, and pulled the trigger putting a bullet right in the heart of the one in front of him. As he spun to take out the other one, he’d slipped on the muddy ground.
Sam crashed to his knees and lost his gun, he’d looked right into a pair of red eyes and slavering jaws. Sam reached down into himself to summon his powers, he knew he was going against Dean’s wishes. But if he was out of commission, then who would protect Dean? Ever since he’d returned from hell he hadn’t been the same, more tentative, uncertain. Being pressured by Castiel and the other angels, the cracks were beginning to show. Now it was up to him to step in, and take care of his brother.
As the power crackled through his veins, the black dog had leapt for him but it never reached its target. Dean appeared and tackled it in mid air, the two of them rolling over and over in the dirt. Sam was unable to get a clear shot; he’d stood helpless when Dean had let a guttural yell when the dog’s claws had sunk into his belly. Then Dean had fired his gun twice, and the dog jerked before collapsing heavily on top of him.
Sam stayed routed to the spot, the scene had been too reminiscent of when the hell hounds had torn his brother apart. He was only galvanised into action when Dean had moaned, and tried weakly to push the dead weight off him. Sam ran over and hauled the carcass off him, and frantically tore at Dean’s clothes to see how bad the injuries were. There were four deep gouges running from Dean’s hip to his ribcage, Sam could see they would need stitches. But for once luck was on their side, they shouldn’t need to head for the hospital. He’d gone to pick Dean up and get them out of there, but his hard headed jackass of a brother had refused telling him to burn the bodies.
It was the quickest salt and burn in the history of hunting, as Sam kept looking over to where Dean was propped against a tree with his shirt pressed against his body. Once Dean was happy Sam had got him to his feet, holding him as he got his breath back. Dean gritted his teeth, as he started to shuffle slowly towards the Impala. Sam counted the steps until finally Dean’s eyes had rolled back, and he’d folded in on himself.
Sam shifted his hold on his brother, sliding his one arm behind his knees the other behind his shoulders. He lifted Dean with ease cradling him gently against his chest. Sam silently thanked all the extra training he’d done after Dean had gone, and now carrying his brother’s lean but well muscled body was relatively easy. It hadn’t taken Sam long to carry Dean to the car, when they’d arrived back at the motel. Sam had ignored his brother’s protests, as he’d carried him to the room, and deposited him on the bed.
Then Sam had cut Dean’s clothes off, biting his lip when he’d been confronted with the evidence of his arrogance. He hadn’t properly checked how many black dogs there were, and Dean had bled for his mistake. While he’d cleaned and stitched, Dean had hummed tunelessly to himself, his eyes fixed firmly on the ceiling. The only other sound he made was to ask if Sam was alright.
Sam hadn’t known whether to laugh or cry at his brother’s earnest enquiry, with the demon blood coursing through his veins he was more than just alright. But even with all that power at his disposal, he hadn’t been able to prevent Dean from getting hurt. He’d really have to talk to Ruby about more training, if he was to keep Dean safe in future.
After he’d finished patching Dean up, he’d put him in bed and let him rest. Of course Dean being Dean, his brother had then developed an infection. For two days Sam had sat beside him, putting ice filled bags around him, bathing him with cool water and forcing antibiotics down him. As Dean had burned with fever, he’d whispered brokenly about the cold loneliness of hell. Pleading softly for help he knew wouldn’t come. Too afraid to call for Sam, in case it brought Alistair back to play with him, along with his bag of tricks and razors. Sam had begun to suspect being ripped apart day after day, hadn’t been the reason Dean had broken. It had been more to do with whose face Alistair had been wearing, when he’d carved into Dean’s flesh.
Then finally earlier today the fever had mercifully broken, and for the first time in days when Dean had opened his eyes they were a clear. Instead of the murky, dulled eyes he’d seen roving desperately round the room, looking for demons. The first thing Dean had done was focus on Sam and said, “You ok Sammy?” His voice a breathy whisper, as he’d looked his brother over for injury.
“I’m fine Dean, which is more than I can say for you. You gotta stop letting those things use you as a chew toy.” Sam said relief washing over him, as Dean managed a tired smile. Then he’d called him a girl, for getting all teary eyed over him.
That was when Sam had decided they were staying put here until after Christmas, and he’d put his plans for the holiday in motion. He’d set about organizing a Christmas meal for them, sweet talking the lady at the dinner down the block into to putting a couple of plates of turkey and all the trimmings up for them. He’d also got pie for desert, all he’d have to do was warm it up. He had managed to sneak out when Dean had fallen asleep, and brought him a Christmas present. He would give it to him tonight once he was fully aware. Finally he’d decorated the room, there was tinsel everywhere along with streamers and the lopsided tree he’d picked up on his way back from his gift and food run.
Sam was ready, now all he had to do was wake up sleeping beauty; he stood by the bed and watched Dean as he slept. He couldn’t help himself; it was partly because he still couldn’t believe Dean was back. After Dean had died, the world had become a muted, cold place. When his big brother had breezed into that motel room and hugged him, the colour and warmth had flooded back into his world. Even though Dean’s own colours and fire were more subdued these days, he was here. Sam basked in his still larger than life presence.
Sam carried on drinking in the sight of his brother, and he marvelled at how young Dean looked as he slept. The lines of pain, fatigue, and the stress he carried constantly were smoothed away. His long girly eyelashes fanning against still too pale cheeks, without thinking Sam reached out and pushed a few errant strands of hair off Dean’s forehead. He frowned as his fingers brushed gently at too warm skin. The fever still hadn’t gone completely, and his gentle touch made Dean’s eyelids flutter. Sam stopped moving afraid he would wake him.
When Dean didn’t wake, Sam caressed his cheek just to check how bad the fever was he told himself. His brother leant into the comforting touch, and Sam wished that just once his brother would accept comfort without seeing it as a sign of weakness. Sam knew the only way he could get close to Dean like this was, was when he was hurt or sick. He wanted just once to hold Dean, without either of them being about to die.
Dean took a deep breath and once again his eyelids fluttered. Sam knew he was about to wake, and regretfully he moved his hand away. Dean blinked several times, each time his eyes staying open a little longer. Finally he managed to keep them open, and he struggled to focus on Sam.
“Hey there about time you woke up, I thought you were gonna sleep through till the New Year dude.” Sam said with a smile.
Dean lifted his hand and grimaced in pain as his stitches pulled, he rubbed at his eyes and yawned. “Wha’s up Sammy, you get bored or something?” Dean went to say something else, and then he saw the motel room. He looked round the tinsel festooned room in shock, and then he caught sight of the Christmas tree. He looked up at Sam who was beaming at him, and almost bouncing on the spot, “Sammy?”
“As it looks like we’re gonna be stuck here for a few days, I thought I’d brighten the place up for you. Do you like it? Hang on a minute I’ve got a little something for you.” Sam said as he turned, and headed for his duffle bag. He picked it up, and put it on his bed and searched through it.
Sam turned back a look of triumph on his face; he walked back to Dean’s bed. He held out a package wrapped in newspaper, “Merry Christmas Dean, I know it’s early but whenever had we been traditional?” He said with a smile.
Dean looked at Sam in shock, and he reached out with shaking hands. He looked at the brightly decorated room, and then back at Sam. “Am I dying or something?” He asked in a shaky voice.
Sam’s heart rate rocketed, and he sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. He grabbed Dean’s hand, “Fuck what’s wrong? I knew I should’ve taken you to the hospital. Come on, I can get us there in five minutes.” Sam pulled frantically at the bed clothes.
“Whoa, whoa there Sammy, I’m fine it’s just what’s with all the Christmas Spirit? Aren’t you the boy who hates Christmas?” Dean smirked at him.
“Dean you jackass, you nearly gave me a fucking heart attack.” Sam shrugged and picked at the comforter, “It’s just I wanted to have a Christmas with you, without all the crap we had last year. I can take your present back, and get the decorations down if you want.” He reached for the present.
Dean snatched it back and clutched it to his chest, “Only if you want to lose your fingers, and you touch that tree, and there is Nair in your future.” He said with a growl.
“Well come on, don’t keep me waiting. Open your present.” Sam nodded towards the parcel.
Dean tried to push himself up the bed, but his arms shook with strain. Sam stood and wrapped his arms round him, and gently lifted him higher. And so what if he held on a little longer than he should have, he was still getting over Dean’s little joke from a moment ago. Sam stepped back, sat down and waited.
Dean took the hint and fell on the package, tearing at the paper excitedly. His face lit up when he saw what was inside, “Sammy this is awesome, thank you so much. Where the hell did you get this little beauty?” Dean lifted the hunting knife to the light, examining the keen blade with his thumb.
“That hunting and fishing store in the last town, I saw this and I knew you’d lost yours the last time we tangled with vamps. Do you like it?” Sam looked at him hopefully.
“I love it Sammy, thanks man.” Dean hadn’t seen his brother look so happy in a long time, and that was an even better present than the knife. It was good to have that Sammy back again.
The smile on Sam’s face grew even brighter, he reached for the remote and pointed it at the television, “And just to make tonight complete, your favourite Christmas movie is about to start.”
“Shit really? Oh man I love Gremlins. Sam this is one of the best Christmas’ ever.” Dean slumped back against his pillows, a weary but happy expression on his face. Then he frowned, “Sam, I haven’t got you anything, dude I’m sorry.” Dean edged over a little, and he patted the bed, “Come on Sam get your ass up here, and watch Gizmo with me.”
Sam moved up the bed and lay pressed up against Dean on the small bed, as he settled down to watch the movie he said. “It’s alright you didn’t have to buy me anything. I got the best gift of all this year, you’re here with me.”