God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen
Title: God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen
Rating: PG(?)
Characters: Sam, Dean, Castiel
Summary: Team Free Will celebrates Christmas in Heaven, Hell, and Earth.
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And with true love and brotherhood/Each other now embrace...
There's a war on in Heaven, but the fighting stops on Christmas Day. There isn't any Christ-child left in Heaven, but for a little while there's peace. Castiel looks at the dark border between his territory and Raphael's and wonders where their Savior is. What child could possibly come and save Heaven from itself. He prays, but there isn't any response. He's not surprised to find he wasn't expecting one. Castiel leans back and plans the tactical advances he will take tomorrow, and the days after that.
In Bethlehem, in Israel/This blessed babe was born/and laid within a manger...
Christmas pageants are kind of gay. Half the kids wear these nerdy cotton beards and weird hats-headdresses, Lisa corrects him-and these dress-things-they're robes, Dean, shush. And Dean's holding the videocamera like every father there when the lights go off, because this is the first Christmas of many and he wants to remember it. Then a light comes up and a little girl in angel wings comes out and says,
"This is the story of the first Christmas."
And yeah, it's cheesy and kind of lame and the little kid Mary drops the baby doll Jesus and Ben-Joseph forgets his line. But there's kind of a power to it, the words. Sam would have loved it.
"Merry Christmas, Sammy," he says under his breath, and the tinfoil Star of Bethlehem and the cardboard stable blur into one.
To save us all from Satan's power/When we were gone astray...
Lucifer sinks his hand into Sam's chest and stirs things around. "And unto the little mud-monkeys a child was born," he intones, "Our Lord and Savior become a shrivelled squalling ape to be murdered by your filthy hands."
"What does little Sammy want for Christmas?" Michael mocks.
"A pony," Sam grits out, blood and worse bubbling out with the words. The fallen angels laugh and Sam's vision goes white with pain and for a second-just a second-he's watching his brother walk out of a church holding hands with Lisa with Ben running along in front of them. He looks happy.
"Merry Christmas, Dean," Sam says, and for his very own special Christmas gift the angels let Sam die, let him dream of standing in the shadows on the other side of the road and watch Dean be happy.
Rating: PG(?)
Characters: Sam, Dean, Castiel
Summary: Team Free Will celebrates Christmas in Heaven, Hell, and Earth.
*********
And with true love and brotherhood/Each other now embrace...
There's a war on in Heaven, but the fighting stops on Christmas Day. There isn't any Christ-child left in Heaven, but for a little while there's peace. Castiel looks at the dark border between his territory and Raphael's and wonders where their Savior is. What child could possibly come and save Heaven from itself. He prays, but there isn't any response. He's not surprised to find he wasn't expecting one. Castiel leans back and plans the tactical advances he will take tomorrow, and the days after that.
In Bethlehem, in Israel/This blessed babe was born/and laid within a manger...
Christmas pageants are kind of gay. Half the kids wear these nerdy cotton beards and weird hats-headdresses, Lisa corrects him-and these dress-things-they're robes, Dean, shush. And Dean's holding the videocamera like every father there when the lights go off, because this is the first Christmas of many and he wants to remember it. Then a light comes up and a little girl in angel wings comes out and says,
"This is the story of the first Christmas."
And yeah, it's cheesy and kind of lame and the little kid Mary drops the baby doll Jesus and Ben-Joseph forgets his line. But there's kind of a power to it, the words. Sam would have loved it.
"Merry Christmas, Sammy," he says under his breath, and the tinfoil Star of Bethlehem and the cardboard stable blur into one.
To save us all from Satan's power/When we were gone astray...
Lucifer sinks his hand into Sam's chest and stirs things around. "And unto the little mud-monkeys a child was born," he intones, "Our Lord and Savior become a shrivelled squalling ape to be murdered by your filthy hands."
"What does little Sammy want for Christmas?" Michael mocks.
"A pony," Sam grits out, blood and worse bubbling out with the words. The fallen angels laugh and Sam's vision goes white with pain and for a second-just a second-he's watching his brother walk out of a church holding hands with Lisa with Ben running along in front of them. He looks happy.
"Merry Christmas, Dean," Sam says, and for his very own special Christmas gift the angels let Sam die, let him dream of standing in the shadows on the other side of the road and watch Dean be happy.