Christmas Fic Exchange: by jj1564 for tiggeratl1
It's day four of my fic exchange, so here's our next offering from jj1564. And her story's mostly about me, so it must be bloody fantastic!
Fic Title: O Christmas Trees
Author: jj1564
Recipient: tiggeratl1
Characters: Sam, Dean, Crowley and Rowena
Rating: pg
Word Count: 1,700
Summary: I can’t summarise it better than this excellent prompt - Crowley has been cutting down and stealing trees from the Christmas tree farm in Lebanon KS. What the heck is he up to?
December 20th
“Lebanon Christmas tree farmer at a loss to explain the theft of several trees…” Sam reads out from their local newspaper.
“Why’s that even in the news?” Dean asks. “Just some lowlife stealing trees,”
“It’s the way they’ve been stolen.” Sam explains. “You’d expect trees near the edge to be taken, but these ones are going from the center, with no tire tracks or even footprints.”
“That is kinda weird,” Dean frowns. “No…it can’t be.”
“What?”
“This is gonna sound strange, but Crowley smelt like pine yesterday. I thought he had new cologne or something. And he was shiftier than usual.”
“Yeah, I wondered why he’d just called in,” Sam agrees.
Dean picks up his cell phone, “Come on you slimy bastard…”
“Not answering?”
“Nope. That’s a sure sign he’s involved somehow.” Dean shrugs. “But why the hell would the King of Hell steal Christmas trees?”
“Beats me. But he has been…odd since Rowena arrived.”
Dean shudders. “Having that old bitch of a witch for a mom would make anyone odd.”
“Hello, boys.” Crowley growls in greeting, startling both Winchesters. He arches one eyebrow. ”You rang?”
“Holy freakin’ crap,” Dean gasps, “I thought this place was supposed to be warded?”
“We changed it to allow him in, remember?” Sam replies.
“Yeah, big mistake,” Dean glares at Crowley.
“And I’m delighted to see you, too, Squirrel,” Crowley smirks. “What do you want?”
“Well, first off, you could just answer your freakin’ phone rather than make a house call.” Dean grumbles.
“I was in the area,” Crowley manages to look shiftier than usual.
“Why are you here, again?” Sam asks, “Is it anything to do with this?” He points at the newspaper headline.
“I didn’t think a few trees would be missed,” Crowley sighs. “I just wanted…”
“You could’ve bought them, it’s not like you’re short of cash,” Dean retorts.
“That’s not the issue,” Sam interjects.
“It’s not? He’s the King of Freakin’ Hell, why would he need to steal trees?” Dean asks.
“Exactly. Why do you need so many trees, Crowley? It’s not like you celebrate Christmas in hell.”
Crowley actually blushes, something neither Sam nor Dean have ever seen before; it’s disconcerting to say the least.
“None of your business, Moose,” Crowley tries to sound threatening, but it comes across as petulant.
“C’mon, Crowley, you know we’ll find out sooner or later,” Dean coaxes.
“Here,” Crowley pulls two envelops from his jacket pocket. “This might explain, although I’m already regretting inviting you two denim-wrapped nightmares.”
With that, Crowley disappears. Dean opens his envelope and laughs, managing to say, “He’s having a…a…Christmas Party!”
“What?” Sam rips open his envelope, and reads out, “Crowley, King of Hell, Master of Demons, cordially invites you to a Christmas Eve Party. Location: Throne Chamber, Hell. Time: 8.30pm onwards. Dress code: formal. RSVP by burning this invitation.”
“A freakin’ Christmas Party in hell…” Dean wipes his eyes, “this is the best worst idea ever!”
“He’s never had one,” Sam muses.
“Never had what?”
“A Christmas.” Sam replies. “Think about it, Dean. He had a miserable childhood and I doubt he celebrated Christmas much even as an adult. And he’s been in hell for centuries.”
“Damn, that’s harsh. I know our Christmas’s haven’t been exactly Hallmark movies, but at least we’ve had a few good ones.”
Sam nods in agreement, “Yeah, and I think having his mom around has made him nostalgic.”
“So, are we gonna go?” Dean frowns as he re-reads the invitation. “Oh no, I’m not gonna wear a monkey suit.”
“I’m dying to see how he’s decorated the trees, and we’ve got nothing else planned…”
“Die Hard, pizza and beer.”
“You did that last night.”
“And your point is?”
“You know you want to go…” Sam hesitates. “Oh…I guess it’s not a great location for either of us to revisit.”
Dean rubs his hand over his eyes. “It’s okay. Being invited there is a bit different to being dragged there by hellhounds. Or jumping in.” He grins ruefully at Sam.
“Are you sure?” Sam asks.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure, Sammy.” Dean starts laughing again, “I still can’t believe the crazy son-of-a-bitch is having a Christmas Party!”
Christmas Eve
Dean tugs at his bow tie, already feeling like his air supply has been cut off. He glares at his reflection, hating the way he looks in a formal suit, even if Bela had seemed to like it back when they’d all gone to that fancy-pants party.
“Stop fiddling with it, it’s fine,” Sam tells him, not for the first time.
“Don’t know why we have to wear these damn stupid suits,” Dean grumbles, also not for the first time.
Sam just grins at him as he picks up the bottle of Craig they’re taking as a gift for Crowley. They’d had to exchange an Egyptian fertility statue for it, but they didn’t need that - the weedy looking antiquities dealer had looked much more in need of it.
As they get ready to open the portal to hell that Crowley gave them, Sam glances at Dean. His brother looks uncomfortable and Sam knows it’s not just because of the suit and tie.
“You o…”
“I swear, Sammy, if you ask me one more time if I’m okay, I’ll shove that bottle where the sun don’t shine,” Dean growls, then, when he sees Sam’s concerned expression adds, “sorry, I know you’re worried for me, and I am for you. But Balthazar said Crowley’s changed hell - it’s cleaner, more efficient, less torturey.”
“Is that even a word?” Sam grins.
“Bite me,” Dean glowers back.
Once they arrive in hell, they are greeted with the sight of a large hall, with Christmas trees lining the walls, covered in what appears to be real but non-melting snow, candy canes, twinkling lights and brightly colored baubles.
“Wow,” Sam gasps in surprise.
“It’s like a freakin’ forest!” Dean adds. “Well, it was a forest…”
“It’s like Martha Stewart on speed,” Sam grins.
They’re both smiling as they approach Crowley’s throne. There are other humans there, as well as some of Crowley’s flunkeys, but the only other person they know is Rowena, so they stop to say hello to her.
“Hello, boys,” she purrs, with Crowley’s greeting sounding so different when she says it. “Fergus will be delighted that you’ve come along to his wee party,”
“We wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Sam replies.
“Yeah, can’t say we ever expected a Christmas party here,” Dean looks around, “it looks so different.”
“Oh yes, I forgot you’ve both been here before, under less convivial circumstances,” Rowena replies, “oh, here comes Fergus,”
If the Christmas trees hadn’t been enough to make them think they were sharing a really weird dream, the sight of Crowley in a Santa costume carrying a large sack of presents almost topped them over the edge from bemused to hysterical.
“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” Dean whispers to Sam, who nods in agreement, unable to form a sentence.
“Ho ho ho,” Crowley bellows, “Merry Christmas, one and all,”
“I need a drink,” Dean mutters.
“I need a double,” Sam shakes his head, bewildered.
To one side of the throne, there’s a table laden with party food - chicken wings, pizza, potato chips, mini sausages, and a large apple pie, cut into slices - and demon butlers holding trays with bottles of beer, glasses of eggnog and whisky. Dean’s eyes widen as his stomach rumbles, but for now he just grabs two glasses of eggnog, handing one to Sam.
“Before the party starts, it’s time for presents,” Crowley announces as he sits on his throne.
Dean gulps his eggnog down and takes another. “This is weirder than I imagined, and I imagined some weird shit.”
“I’m gonna take some photos to show Cas,” Sam reaches for his cell phone.
“He should’ve come, he was invited,”
“You know he’s kinda mad that he fought to get you out of here, and you’ve come back for a party,”
“Not my fault Crowley could open a portal for us.” Dean shrugs, but Sam knows he does feel a little bit guilty. They hadn’t thought of how Cas would feel about their excursion to hell for a jolly party.
“Dean,” Crowley calls out. Dean looks around the room sheepishly; he hates being singled out. The package is large, and Dean wonders how it had fit in the sack with the gifts already given out. “You can open it now, if you like,” Crowley informs him.
“Um…yeah, okay,” Dean rips the gaudy wrapping paper off and laughs when he sees a karaoke machine. “Thanks, Crowley,” he says, sincerely. “We have something for you, too.”
Sam walks over to give Crowley the Craig and his eyes light up with surprise. “Good choice, boys!”
“I’m not so sure about Dean’s, I’m the one who’ll have to listen to him caterwauling!” Sam grins.
“Ah, I have something for you, too, Moose,” Crowley rummages in the bag and pulls out Sam’s gift.
“Wow, this is the latest version…” Sam mutters as he stares at his brand new, top of the range laptop.
“It also comes with headphones, for when Dean’s singing,” Crowley smirks as Dean scowls at them both. “It also has the ability to pick up Wi-Fi anywhere.”
“Jeez, thanks, Crowley,” Sam gushes, almost breathless in wonder.
“And when you get back to the Bunker, you’ll find a new 52-inch flatscreen TV in your den, Dean.”
It’s Dean’s turn to be surprised, and he finds himself blurting out, “You have to come visit us tomorrow, Die Hard will be epic on a big screen!”
Crowley smiles, and Sam is sure this was his plan all along. Christmas with the Winchesters.
Well, friends came in all shapes and sizes, as well as human and non-human varieties, he thinks, as he adds “Yeah, the more the merrier! Dean’s cooking a turkey the size of an ostrich.”
“Well, I don’t eat, but I can bring a tree,” Crowley winks.
END