SPN ficlet: O Night Divine
Title: O Night Divine
Author:slazersc
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Sam and Dean
Warnings: Up to Heaven and Hell
Summary: The first Christmas eve with Dean back.
Notes: A little scene that got stuck in my head on Christmas eve.
Sam stretches, stiff joints popping, and breathes in the night air that’s so cold it burns his lungs. After a solid day spent in the Impala, it’s good to be able to stop for the night, even if it is only at another nondescript motel. Sam turns, heading round the back to get his duffel. Above him, the sky for once is cloudless, the stars pinpricks of brilliant fire. After what Anna said about falling angels and shooting stars, he can almost imagine that this is the whole heavenly host arrayed in all their glory across the night sky.
O holy night! The stars are brightly shining,
It is the night of our dear Savior's birth.
The words of the song carry soft but clear over the silence. Sam realizes with a jolt that he must have lost track of the days. Tonight is Christmas eve. Even in this sleepy town, there are carollers about and Christmas lights strung up on buildings.
Long lay the world in sin and error pining,
'Til He appear'd and the soul felt its worth.
They’ve been losing themselves in the hunt, and in the war. It’s been a month since Dean’s confession of his time in Hell, and his headspace is still nowhere close to normal. Those forty years, tortured and torturer, have been bleeding through into Dean’s sleep. Restless nights and uneasy dreams and both of them exhausted the next day.
A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices,
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.
There hasn’t been much to smile about lately. But now Sam remembers, this time last year, how time had weighed heavily on his heart. How he’d celebrated Christmas with Dean knowing it would be their last.
And now Dean’s alive, despite Sam’s failure to save him, or bring him back. Dean’s alive, his body whole again, and even if his head isn’t in the right place, that’s still not so bad, isn’t it?
Fall on your knees! O, hear the angels' voices!
O night divine, O night when Christ was born;
O night divine, O night, O night divine.
"So," Dean says, leaning against the Impala. His head is cocked, listening to the song carrying over the silent air. "You think Cas and his angel buddies are around somewhere, all heavenly choir-y?"
The corner of Sam’s mouth quirks at the image of dour Castiel, hymn book in hand, singing his heart out. But before he can say anything, Dean answers his own question. "Nah, with the war going on, what’s there to sing about?"
"Nothing." Sam smiles, despite himself. "Nothing at all."
And thinks, maybe he can find some place that sells eggnog, like last year. And pie. Mustn’t forget pie.
Author:slazersc
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Sam and Dean
Warnings: Up to Heaven and Hell
Summary: The first Christmas eve with Dean back.
Notes: A little scene that got stuck in my head on Christmas eve.
Sam stretches, stiff joints popping, and breathes in the night air that’s so cold it burns his lungs. After a solid day spent in the Impala, it’s good to be able to stop for the night, even if it is only at another nondescript motel. Sam turns, heading round the back to get his duffel. Above him, the sky for once is cloudless, the stars pinpricks of brilliant fire. After what Anna said about falling angels and shooting stars, he can almost imagine that this is the whole heavenly host arrayed in all their glory across the night sky.
O holy night! The stars are brightly shining,
It is the night of our dear Savior's birth.
The words of the song carry soft but clear over the silence. Sam realizes with a jolt that he must have lost track of the days. Tonight is Christmas eve. Even in this sleepy town, there are carollers about and Christmas lights strung up on buildings.
Long lay the world in sin and error pining,
'Til He appear'd and the soul felt its worth.
They’ve been losing themselves in the hunt, and in the war. It’s been a month since Dean’s confession of his time in Hell, and his headspace is still nowhere close to normal. Those forty years, tortured and torturer, have been bleeding through into Dean’s sleep. Restless nights and uneasy dreams and both of them exhausted the next day.
A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices,
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.
There hasn’t been much to smile about lately. But now Sam remembers, this time last year, how time had weighed heavily on his heart. How he’d celebrated Christmas with Dean knowing it would be their last.
And now Dean’s alive, despite Sam’s failure to save him, or bring him back. Dean’s alive, his body whole again, and even if his head isn’t in the right place, that’s still not so bad, isn’t it?
Fall on your knees! O, hear the angels' voices!
O night divine, O night when Christ was born;
O night divine, O night, O night divine.
"So," Dean says, leaning against the Impala. His head is cocked, listening to the song carrying over the silent air. "You think Cas and his angel buddies are around somewhere, all heavenly choir-y?"
The corner of Sam’s mouth quirks at the image of dour Castiel, hymn book in hand, singing his heart out. But before he can say anything, Dean answers his own question. "Nah, with the war going on, what’s there to sing about?"
"Nothing." Sam smiles, despite himself. "Nothing at all."
And thinks, maybe he can find some place that sells eggnog, like last year. And pie. Mustn’t forget pie.