Santa’s Workshop 2/2
by Swanseajill
Part Two
Dean settled into his throne and Sam took up his position nearby. After a few moments, Mrs. Shepherd popped her head around the door. “Ready?”
“Oh, yeah,” Dean said. “I was born ready. Let’s roll.”
The door was wedged open and the line began to file in. First up was a woman in her thirties, holding a very young girl by the hand.
Sam looked down at the child and said in his best cheerful-elf voice, “Hi there. Welcome to Santa’s Workshop.”
The little girl looked up at him. And up. And up. Her bottom lip began to quiver. “Mommy, it’s a giant!” she whispered and burst into tears.
Sam didn’t know who was the most embarrassed. It was probably a dead heat between him and the mother, who quickly ushered the wailing child out. Santa was doubled over, clutching his middle, his beard emitting a strangled sound as he tried to smother the laughter.
Mrs. Shepherd rushed in. “Sam, dear, I think it might be best if you and David swap for the morning. You might be better managing crowd control out here.”
Too mortified to argue, Sam nodded and headed for the exit. Dean snorted, “See ya, Freaky-Monster-Elf,” as he left.
Fortunately, the incident didn’t seem to set a precedent for things to come. For the next two hours, Sam felt he more than earned his pay as an elf. He alternated between working the line, trying to keep impatient children happy, and acting as minder for the reindeer who were having difficulty seeing from within their furry heads. He couldn’t see what was happening in the Workshop, but the steady flow of children came and went, and there were no sounds of screaming. In fact, the children and their parents all came out smiling and clutching photos. He even overheard several snippets of conversation that made him grin.
“Mom, that Santa’s totally cool!”
“Daddy, Santa Claus gave me a high five!”
“And then Santa let me pull his beard…”
Finally, a comment from one of the moms made him laugh aloud.
“That Santa has the sexiest voice I’ve ever heard. I think I’ll bring Jimmy back for another visit tomorrow!”
Sam began to think he’d drawn the short straw. After all, how hard could the Santa gig be, if Dean could do it for two hours without anyone actually calling the police? All he had to do was sit in a comfortable chair and pat a few kids on the head. Whereas Sam had been on his feet for two hours, trying to placate kids who wanted to talk to Santa, not one of his minion elves, not to mention acting as minder and bodyguard, protecting Rudolph from little monsters intent on pulling his nose off.
Eventually, the first shift of the day ended. The door to the Workshop was closed and within a few minutes, the area around was clear of all but assorted elves and reindeer.
Mrs. Shepherd fussed around them. “You all did an excellent good job this morning, everybody. There’s an hour-and-a-half break before the afternoon shift. Reindeer and elves can go inside and relax, or you can wander around the mall - but please try to stay in character if you do.”
Then she opened the door to the Workshop an inch and called, “Dean, honey, you might like to go into the changing room and take your costume off for a while, but don’t touch the beard - it takes too long to glue on.”
There was a muffled, “’kay” from inside.
“Dean, honey?” Since when had his brother become, “Dean, honey?”
“Dean did a wonderful job this morning, Sam,” Mrs. Shepherd gushed. “I admit I had my doubts at first, but the children love him.”
She bustled off. Sam was left wondering if it was really his brother in there or if Dean had managed to con someone else into donning the Santa costume and was even now across the street in his natural habitat, hustling pool.
Only one way to find out. He opened the door and entered the Workshop.
There was something infinitely disturbing in the sight of Santa Claus locked in a passionate embrace with the nubile elf seated on his lap. In fact, Sam was quite certain he was going to need therapy for some time to come to erase the image from his nightmares.
He caught Dean’s eye and frowned fiercely. Dean reluctantly broke the kiss.
The black-haired elf hopped off Dean’s lap, pulled a pen out from somewhere in her costume, rolled down one of Santa’s white gloves and wrote something on the back of his hand. Then she kissed him chastely on the cheek. “See ya later, Santa.” As she walked past Sam, she winked.
Dean looked at Sam.
Sam looked at Dean.
“What?”
“Dude, that’s just wrong. I’m pretty sure Santa isn’t supposed to neck with his elves. Especially in his own workshop.”
Dean smirked. “Who says? This Santa’s been entertaining squealing kids for two hours. He needs some relief from the stress.” He stood up and stretched. “Come on, Freaky-Monster-Elf. You gotta get me out of this costume. It’s hotter than the fires of hell in here.”
Sam chose not to comment on the inappropriateness of the metaphor.
* ~ * ~ * ~ *~ *~ *~ *~
Break over, Dean settled back into his throne. Sam, determined to witness his brother in action as Santa, had persuaded Mrs. Shepherd to allow him back into the Workshop, after promising to always crouch down to talk to the children. He took up his position at Santa’s side and within minutes, the Workshop was open for business.
Several times during the next few hours, Sam found himself wondering if he’d been transported to a parallel dimension. A dimension in which everything he thought he knew about Dean was turned upside down.
Because quite frankly, his brother was freakin’ awesome.
It didn’t take long for Sam to realize that the Santa job wasn’t quite as simple as he’d thought. The kids arrived in all shapes and sizes. Some were boisterous, some painfully shy, some downright evil and others so cocky and full of themselves that he wanted to slap them. And it was quite obvious that you couldn’t treat them all the same.
Dean took it all in his stride and seemed to know instinctively how to talk to each child. Take the shy ones. Some Dean coaxed onto his lap. With others, he kept his distance, and for the life of him, Sam couldn’t work out how Dean knew which tack to take.
That was surprising enough, but what impressed Sam the most was that Dean was taking this seriously. Sam didn’t have a great deal of experience with shopping-mall Santas, but from what he’d observed, some were less than committed to their job, hurrying the kids through with one eye on the clock. Not Dean. He took the time to talk to each of them. Some he treated like equals, others he talked to seriously, some he joked with.
Watching it all, Sam felt incredibly proud of his brother.
Finally, there was only one child left in line, a boy of around six who held onto the hand of an older boy while a woman, probably their grandmother, watched from a distance, a somewhat anxious look on her face.
The little boy clambered up onto Dean’s lap willingly enough.
“And what’s your name, young man?” Dean asked.
“Mikey.”
“So, Mikey, what are you hoping Santa’ll bring you for Christmas?”
The little boy leaned forward and whispered in Dean’s ear. Sam saw his brother stiffen for a split second. Dean was silent, leaving Sam wondering what exactly the child had said.
Mikey looked up at Dean expectantly while Sam stood nearby, staring at the two of them intently.
Finally, Dean looked the child in the eye and said softly, “Mikey, I’m sorry, but that’s one thing Santa can’t give you for Christmas. I can’t bring your Mom and Dad back. I wish I could.”
Mikey’s eyes filled up and he looked around. His brother rushed forward quickly, putting a hand on his shoulder.
“It’s okay, Mikey,” he said. “I told you Santa couldn’t bring them back.”
“That’s right,” Dean said. “They can’t be here with you, but they love you very much, and they don’t want you to be sad. They want you to have a good Christmas, okay?”
Mikey stared at Dean solemnly for a moment, and then he gave a slight nod.
Dean looked at the older boy. “You’re Mikey’s brother, right?”
The boy nodded.
What’s your name?”
“Jake,” the boy said quietly.
“Jake, I can’t make Mikey’s wish come true. No one can do that. You know that.”
Jake nodded, a look of resigned acceptance on his face that tore at Sam’s heart.
“But they’d want you and your brother to have a good time at Christmas, right?”
The boy nodded. “I guess. That’s what Grams keeps saying. It’s hard, though. Mikey misses them so much.”
Sam listened, a lump in his throat. This boy reminded him so much of Dean. Worried about his brother, trying to be strong for him and not willing to admit that he, too, is lost without his parents.
“Of course he misses them. But you know what? You still have each other, and you have your Grams. Maybe if you try to make each other happy, you won’t miss them quite so much. What do you think?”
Mikey glanced at his brother, then nodded, giving Dean a tremulous smile. After a moment, Jake nodded too. “We’ll try.”
Then Mikey reached up and put his arms around Dean’s neck, holding on tight.
Dean wrapped his arms around the little boy, holding him tightly for a moment, and then released him and nodded to Sam. Sam delved in the tub for presents, which Jake took carefully.
“Thanks,” Jake said quietly.
Dean held his eyes for a moment. “You’re welcome,” he said softly.
The brothers watched in silence as the two boys left the Workshop.
Sam glanced at Dean, at the intense expression on his face. He now knew, with complete certainty, why his brother had always hated Santa Claus.
* ~ * ~ * ~ *~ *~ *~ *~
The team retreated to the changing room, and one by one the helpers drifted off, until eventually Sam and Dean were alone in the room.
Dean had shed his Santa suit and wig in favor of jeans and a t-shirt, which looked somewhat incongruous when accompanied by the long, snowy white beard. He had been quiet ever since they’d left the Workshop, and Sam just sat with him in silence for a while, before finally asking, “Want to talk about it?”
“Talk about what?”
“About what happened the time you asked Santa to bring Mom back.”
Dean glanced across at him with a faint smile. “So you worked it out, College Boy?”
“Yeah, I did.”
Dean was silent.
“Dean?”
“Sam, it’s not important.”
“Yeah, it is,” Sam said softly.
Dean looked off into the distance for a moment. Then he sighed. “Okay, fine.”
He stood up and leaned back against one of the lockers, arms folded.
“It was the first Christmas after Mom died. Dad took us to see Santa in a local store. You were just a baby, you won’t remember. I didn’t have a wish list - there was only one thing I wanted.” He stopped speaking abruptly
Sam waited patiently, willing to allow Dean to tell the story in his own time. After a few moments, Dean looked up again and continued.
“Anyway, I was standing in line and I heard Santa telling the other kids that all their wishes would come true. So I was pretty confident when it was my turn, and I told him that I wanted my Mom back. And he said…” He swallowed, his jaw working. “He said, ‘Then that’s what you’ll have, little man.’
“I believed him. Then I woke up on Christmas morning - and she wasn’t there. And that’s when I knew that Santa wasn’t real.” He shrugged, a tight smile pulling at his lips. “Stupid, huh? I guess the guy probably didn’t even hear what I was really asking - maybe he thought my Mom was away from home or something. But it hurt really bad and ever since then, I’ve hated this make-believe character who gives little kids false hope.”
Sam had noticed earlier that not once had Dean promised a child that he’d receive everything on his wish list. That made total sense now. And so did something else. “That’s why you always used to help me write my wish list. To make sure I didn’t put things on there that you knew I wasn’t going to get?”
Dean smiled. “It worked, most of the time. And I always made sure you put some stuff down that I could get you if Dad didn’t.”
“Dean, I’m… I’m sorry. I wish you’d told me before. I’d never have suggested this job if I’d known.”
“It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault.”
There was silence for a moment, and then Sam said quietly, “Dean, you know you were awesome with those kids.”
Dean actually flushed and looked away. “It’s not rocket science, Sam.” .
“Maybe,” Sam said firmly, “but not everyone can deal with kids the way you just did. You really have a way with them, man.”
“Yeah, well, I guess I had plenty of practice with my kid brother.”
“And you did good, Dean. You know that, right?”
He held his brother’s eyes for a moment, wanting to be sure that Dean understood the sincerity in his words and everything that lay behind them. Because no amount of words could convey what Sam was feeling right now. He wanted Dean to know that he was the best brother in the world. Of course, Sam could never actually tell him that. Dean didn’t do sentiment. In fact, he was already expecting Dean to break the unaccustomed emotional moment with a wisecrack when Mrs. Shepherd’s voice rang out from outside the room.
“Dean, honey, are you back in costume? The evening shift starts in ten minutes!”
“I’ll be ready,” Dean called back and turned away, beginning to pull on his padding.
Sam knew that there would be no more discussion about Dean’s experience with Santa, so he deliberately lightened the moment. “Need a hand there, Dean honey?” he asked with a smirk.
Dean glanced up and grinned as he pulled on the red trousers. “Hey, she loves me. What can I say? I’m a magnet for babes of all ages.”
Sam laughed and rammed the red hat onto his brother’s head.
Mrs. Shepherd bustled in. “Boys, I think I forgot to tell you. All this week, the evening shift is Pet Night.”
“Pet Night?” Dean repeated, shooting a panicked glance at Sam.
“Oh, you’ll love it. It’s always such fun. The children all bring their pets in to show Santa. I wouldn’t advise that you pick them up, though, Dean. The animals can get a bit excited - we’ve had a few little accidents in the past, and we only have one Santa costume.”
“Uh… right,” was all Dean seemed able to muster, obviously trying to get his mind around this new and alarming development.
Sam couldn’t help but grin at the thought of Dean cooing over sweet little bunnies and guinea pigs.
Mrs. Shepherd’s next words wiped the smile off his face.
“However, accidents do still sometimes happen,” she breezed on, “so Sam, I’m afraid your main job tonight is to take care of that side of things.” She handed him a large plastic bag and a small shovel. “Five minutes, boys!”
And then she was gone.
Dean’s lips twitched under his flowing mustache.
“Ho, ho, ho. Merry Christmas, little brother.”
The End