Merry Christmas to my Supernatural Friends! (Part One)

[borgmama1of5]

Fanfic: Dean Winchester’s Excellent Christmas Adventure

Authors: borgmama1of5 and sandymg

Summary: There has to have been, even in his peculiarly bizarre life, a day where if Dean squinted really hard, it could kind of pass as normal. This was not that day.

Spoilers: None. Set preseries - Christmas 2004

Wordcount: 6,800 - One shot

Genre: Gen, Crack, Christmas, preseries

Characters: Sam, Dean, a Bumble

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: We don't own Supernatural or any of its characters. That doesn’t mean we wouldn’t like to…




Dean Winchester’s Excellent Christmas Adventure

He was scraping the ice off the Impala's windshield why couldn't Dad ever find a friggin' case in Florida in December? when he heard it. The roar was low and deep and close. All he had time to do was swing the ice scraper as he turned like a two dollar piece of plastic was gonna do anything to that?  No way, there was absolutely no such thing as the Abominable Snowman no matter what his Sasquatch of a brother had said. Special creature. Unique opportunity. For what? To freeze their asses off? And where in hell was Sam, he should have been back by now with his so-called supplies -it’s like catnip for snow monsters - what in hell did that mean?

Razor claws sent the ice scraper bouncing off the side of the pick-up next to him. His fingers, though numb with cold, already had the knife from his belt, but the freakin’ Bigfoot which should not goddamn exist had a good ten inches reach on him. Shit.

Behind him Sam shouted, “Dean. NO! Don’t hurt him. I got it under control.” The whatever-the-hell-it-was stopped at his brother’s voice. Damn if the thing didn't freeze the swing that would have eviscerated him and jerk its hairy body in Sam's direction as Sam spilled unidentifiable dark flakes from the bag he had in his hand. Dean backed slowly away from the creature never taking his eyes off it or his brother. It was approaching the flakes Sam was dropping onto the snow like ET traipsing after Reese’s Pieces.

It dropped to all fours to scoop up the goodies for chrissake it looked like an albino Wookie on its hands and knees and Sam backed up smoothly, keeping the same five feet between it and him until he was at the line of trees at the west end of the parking lot.

“Sam? You’d better have a plan, ’cause I’m not living your Rudolph fantasies and making friends with a Bumble.”

But his brother had moved out of earshot, and dammit he had to follow him into the snowy woods and this was positively the last friggin’ time he was letting Sam research something ‘interesting’. Never wanted to hear that word again as long as he lived.

As Dean followed the creature following Sam he could hear it making a noise that masked the sound of the snow crunching under his boots. It let out a half yodel, half burble that if it hadn't been coming out of a mouth with as many teeth as a shark would have been funny. As it was, not so much. The furball was moving faster, closing the space between it and Sam, and Dean broke into a jog to catch up, ducking to avoid the snow he knocked from the branches that was trying to land down his jacket collar.

When Dean caught sight of the creature again it had moved in front of Sam and was beckoning for Sam to follow. What the hell? Of course, his brother didn’t stop and think that they might be Bumble’s Christmas dinner. No, Sam was tagging after it. All Dean wanted was to hightail it back to the car before it became so frozen they’d need a blowtorch to open the lock.

“Sam, c’mon for chrissakes where are we going?”

“It needs our help.”

Dean figured he wasn’t hearing clearly through the howling wind. “Help with what? Devouring its next meal? Which once it wises up, will be us?!”

“No. Its mate is sick. I can help it.”

“Sam, we’re supposed to gank the monsters, not save ’em!”

“This is different! I already explained …” Sam folded practically in half as he disappeared into a cave mouth. No you didn’t, you just said you found something interesting and could we go… Oh for chrissake …Cussing his brother under his breath, Dean had no choice but to follow him into the dark cave.

He could see just enough by the backwash of Sam’s flashlight to not trip over the rocky floor of the passage. Surprisingly the odor was not as disgusting as he usually encountered in the caves of the nasties, although there was enough of the aroma of decay that it was never gonna be an air freshener scent. More organic, dead plant-like, than the blood-and-rancid-flesh aroma of, say, a Wendigo lair.

The cave was larger than he realized from the outside. And while rank, it was dry and warm … well, warmer. Dean started to feel his toes again inside his boots. Fingers were still pretty numb. Not good should he need to defend himself. And his crazy brother was on some damn All Creatures Great and Small house call. This was like that nearly rabid raccoon Sammy brought home one Christmas when he was barely a teenager. Named him Rocky. Maybe he wasn’t really rabid and just injured. But he sure could poop in the most inconvenient of places.

Man, Dad was livid. Dean and Sammy had to spend hours cleaning everything in the weapons bag. If he thought too long he could still smell the crappy scent. Not the worst holiday they'd had, cleaning those weapons together. By the time Sam hit puberty he'd hated the holidays so when Dean'd started singing goofy Christmas songs just to pass the time quicker he expected a bitchface and a shut up, Dean. Not necessarily in that order. He got the bitchface. But his brother's heart wasn't in it. And it had been Sam's fault after all that they were wiping up raccoon shit on Christmas Eve. Sam’d joined in, off key, voice rising and deepening like Santa's belly on a good laugh. Nah. Wasn't their worst Christmas Eve. Now this one...

It wasn’t just his fingers were frozen, Dean stopped abruptly. Brain cells were obviously frozen too - Sam had said its mate needs help and goddamn mate hadn’t registered until just this minute when the Bumble stopped with Sam between it and another growling mound of fur.

Dean gave a strangled yelp as Sam knelt down between the two monsters.

He fumbled for his pistol but his fingers were tingling so hard they felt like they’d been caught in a magic fingers bed … and Sam had clearly lost his marbles. His brother was kneeling before the second Wookie, and …. Dean blinked, looking into its … privates?

What the--

“Dean, get over here!” Sam suddenly was aware that Dean had both gun and knife ready. “Put those away, you don’t need them!”

“Are you frickin’ insane?” Dean hissed, not moving.

“We need hot water. Clean rags ...”

“Sam, what are you going on about?! Move back and let me the kill the damn things before they realize we’re kibbles!”

“Nobody is shooting anything, Dean.” Sam lowered his voice and made soothing noises at the whimpering monster. “The yeti female is having a baby. Don’t just stand there, start a fire.”

Dean didn’t move. Had these creatures possessed his brother?

“Dean.” Even in the dim light Dean could see the puppy dog eyes peering at him through Sam’s bangs. “I’ve already told you. These creatures aren’t evil. They’re not even carnivorous. And they need our help.”

Dean seized on the blatantly obvious discrepancy in what Sam had just said. “Not carnivorous? Didya notice the teeth, Sam?!”

“Give me some credit. I checked on that. During mating season they turn vegetarian. It’s the circle of life, Dean. This isn’t what we hunt. It’s a different kind of job. Now stop standing there and get a fire going. We have a yeti to help birth.”

Stunned and hoping to hell his brother knew what he was doing, Dean started gathering some sticks to make a small fire. Fine, so maybe they wouldn’t be this year’s Christmas goose but what was the point of this? Why did Mama Thing need their help? Was it talking to Sam? Was this some long dormant talent of his freakishly smart brother? He’d learned to communicate with animals like Doctor freakin’ Doolittle? Had the raccoon spoken with him, too?

A deafening roar shook Dean like snow through a blower. His brother was kneeling by the creature’s mammoth head, petting its cheek like one would a small dog. Except next to this thing his humungous brother looked about the size of a small dog himself.

“Sam. What is this? What are we doing?”

Sam looked up at him, and then back to the female yeti. “Dean, we have to do this. Help her, help them.”

“Why?” Dean asked, his voice rising at the craziness of even having to ask this.

“To save Christmas.”

His brother had lost his freakin’ mind. That’s all there was to it. Dean was going to have to drag him out of here whether Sam wanted to come or not. Neither of the creatures were paying any attention to him  and the commotion the female was making had both the male’s and Sam’s rapt attention. Dean slid his knife back in its sheath, and debated whether to keep the gun in his hand for protection or have both hands free to deal with Sam. All things considered, Dean figured getting Sam to budge was going to be the bigger problem so he tucked the pistol back in his waistband and quietly moved closer to Sam and the … things. Although being silent was superfluous now as the female was uttering an ear-piercing wail while rocking back and forth.

Another step closer to Sam while keeping his eyes fixed on the monsters and Dean was close enough to see over his brother’s shoulder … and see what he really, really did not want to be looking at. He was not seeing a baby yeti head coming out of …

“Dean! I need a cloth now! And the water!”

This was just not friggin’ happening. Sam’s pack was by Dean’s feet and he pulled out some cloths they kept for emergencies. They weren’t sterile but did it really friggin’ matter? He grabbed the canteen, too, and seriously questioning his sanity moved over to Sam and the yetis.

Sam looked calmer than anyone with his head near … that … could possibly be. “This could take a while. We need to find a way to sooth her while the contractions come. You should sing.”

“Wh .. at?”

“You’re a good singer. Nice and loud. Should sound good in this cave.”

The creature bellowed again and Sam said, “Now Dean. It’ll help. I know. C’mon … We wish you a Merry Christmas … We wish you a Merry Christmas …”

“You want me to sing Christmas carols?!”

Why was Sam looking at him like he was the one who was out of his mind? “Dean. We’re saving Christmas.”

Dean eyed the male yeti who was staring at him mighty hungrily for an alleged vegetarian. “Sammy?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you high?”

“Dean, you know I don’t do that crap. Dad would have a cow.”

True. But it’s not like it never happened. Last Christmas, his straight-A little brother had shocked the heck out of him.

Dean, didja ever, you know, try pot?

What?!

Was wonderin’ is all.

Where’s this comin’ from Sam. Somebody gave you some?

Looking sheepish Sam had pulled out a couple of joints. I thought if I were to try it, it would be okay if it were with you.

If Dad knew he never said. But man, they’d gone through four pizzas in an hour. And Dean had done some singing that night, too, but real songs, Zeppelin and Metallica, not this Hallmark shit. Dean had thought his brother never smoked again. Now, he wasn’t so sure any more.

Back to the world’s strangest manger … At least Sam let him stand at the other end of the female not the business end thank you as Dean bellowed out holiday songs - Jingle Bells, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, Silent Night, even the freakin’ Dreidel song -- whatever worked, he knew at best half the lyrics of all of ’em, but it was enough. He remembered his brother in a handful of Christmas pageants in grade school, kid never could sing.

The fourth time through Rudolph, Dean thought, this is so wrong and then he realized the mother-to-be was moaning in time to his singing. Which was actually wronger.

“Sam. How much longer?”

“Don’t stop singing. She’s progressing really well.”

“Mind explainin’ to me how a baby Bumble is gonna save Christmas?”

“I already did, it’s the circle of life.”

Sam was massaging the female’s enlarged belly. His normally large hand looked like a tiny speck buried within her mammoth furry frame.

“The Circle of Life is a Disney song, Sam. These things have enough teeth to eat an elephant.” At Sam’s immediate frown, Dean continued. “I know, vegan diet, but seriously, what the hell are we doing here? This is a special job, according to you. So fine, I’ll accept that. But it’s Christmas Eve for pity’s sake. I’m not saying let’s turn into the Waltons, but would it be so awful to be somewhere dry and warm, maybe sippin’ eggnog?” Generously spiked. “At this rate Dad’ll be back and we won’t be there.” Near the motel. Short excursion. Something interesting. Last time he’ll listen to Sam having one of his research-driven epiphanies. And, dammit, they were missing all the good Christmas specials on T.V.

The creature wailed plaintively. Dean felt a touch of pity. The father was looking at his mate, eyes the size of a frickin’ flying saucer.  The Wookie looked … worried. What the hell? He was not going all warm and fuzzy with this!

“Sam, Christmas will come tomorrow whether or not this yeti has her Ewok.”

“No. It won’t, Dean. I’ve been trying to explain. I researched. These are special beings. They’ve lived among us a long time. They are the last of their kind. Their power is more ancient, deeper than anything we’ve ever come across. It’s linked to the Earth itself.”

“Sam, what are you saying?”

“If this yeti baby isn’t born, healthy, tonight … there won’t be a tomorrow.”

“Come again?”

“What I said, bro, save the yeti, save the world.”

There was no warning.

Part 2 here:
http://borgmama1of5.livejournal.com/35171.html

Part 3 here:
http://borgmama1of5.livejournal.com/35449.html