The First Five Holidays... 2/5
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Chapter 2
Christmas
“I think we’ll have Christmas at your house this year, Dad,” said Daphne.
“Really?” replied John. “I’m still full from Thanksgiving.”
She laughed. “Really. We don’t have turkey for Christmas; we have ham and sometimes Bill Cooper brings a goose.”
John blinked. “Goose? Isn’t that awfully... Dickens?”
“He says it’s tradition, and Sam backs him up on that.” She gave an exaggerated sigh. “That’s what we get, I suppose, having a history teacher for a brother and another for a mentor....”
John laughed.
The distinct shape of Frank’s top-of-the-car lights showed at the window as he pulled into John’s drive.
“Uh-oh. Hope I didn’t forget to check in when I got off work.”
“Company? Call me back, Dad.”
“Right. Thanks, Daphne.” He hung up and went to the door to wait for Frank.
Frank walked up to the front door. He was smiling. That was always a good sign.
“Frank,” John said with a nod.
“John. Got a question for you.”
“Shoot.”
“What evening would be best for you to go get presents for your kids?”
John blinked. “Um. I... think Dean said they’re doing gifts on Christmas Eve.”
“Wasn’t what I asked. What evening would be best for you to get presents?”
“I... I don’t know. I hadn’t even thought about it.”
“Your sentence states that you may venture into Beaumont in the custody of a sworn officer of the law for special reasons. This counts.”
John blanched. “You mean go to the mall?!”
“Well, what did you have in mind?”
“Frank-do you have any idea how long it’s been since I’ve been able to afford to buy anything for my kids? I drew a blank on a wedding present, for Pete’s sake. How the hell am I supposed to know what they want for Christmas?”
Frank held up a hand. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. Just transportation if you wanted it.”
John sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry. I just... thanks. Let me think about it.”
Frank nodded and turned back to the car. “Oh, and John?” He smiled up at the house. “Merry Christmas.”
John smiled back. “Thanks, Frank. Same to you.”
As Frank drove away, John pondered his offer-but he truly had no idea what to get the kids. He thought he knew who might, however, so he picked up the phone and dialed. “Bobby? John Winchester-look, I need some help... no, dammit, not with hunting. Christmas presents.”
“For the kids, right?”
“Yeah. Looks like Olson built in a loophole to where I can go shopping for ‘special events.’”
“Or online.”
“... online? There’s stores on the Internet?”
Bobby grumbled.
John sighed. “Bobby, you know I only use the damn computer for research. How was I to know?”
“Emailing you a few links.”
“Thanks. Will... will those go just to stores, or are you sending specific information?”
“Yes.” And Singer hung up.
John grumbled something uncomplimentary and turned on his computer.
There were ten links in one email. Bobby was nothing if not thorough.
And a note attached. Use your real credit card. That’s why you have a job now. -B
John shook his head in amusement and clicked on the first link. It was a hunting supply store. For hunters of animals, but they did have some very good knives and guns. He picked out a few that he didn’t think the boys were likely to have and ordered them, hoping his legal status wouldn’t foul things up.
The next link was a bookstore. John wasn’t at all sure what kinds of books the kids might need, but he thought back over their conversation at Thanksgiving and picked out a couple of books he thought each of them might like. And then, on a whim, he looked at the rare books section and found one he knew Bobby didn’t have at a price that wasn’t heart-stopping.
There was another link marked for you. When he opened it, he found it was a subscription to one of those comedy sites. Paid for a year. Courtesy of Bob Singer.
John laughed. “That wily old son of a gun....”
There were other links - household stuff and just for fun stuff and car repair stuff.
But the last link gave him pause.
He opened it to find the note all it needs is your signature.
John was looking at a donation of hundreds of dollars to a nonprofit that was a front for supporting families of Hunters. Set up by one James Murphy.
The donation was in the name of J & M Winchester.
John ran a shaking hand over his nose and mouth as he fought tears. He didn’t know what to think.
All these years - his anger and revenge had blinded him to this?
Finally, his hand still shaking, he clicked the button to okay the donation-and then he finally broke down and wept.
John felt fabric settle over his shoulders and realized that not only wasn’t he alone-though he had been earlier-someone had draped a denim jacket over his shoulders in a gesture of comfort.
“Thanks, Bill,” he whispered.
“Anytime,” Cooper said, coming to sit beside him on a chair that hadn’t been there a moment ago. “What’s going on?”
John sniffled. “Uh. Just... doing some Christmas shopping, and... got kind of a surprise of my own.” He gestured toward the computer screen.
Cooper’s eyes widened. “That son of a gun really did it,” he said, beginning to grin. “Huh. Didn’t think he had it in him.”
John looked at him, startled. “What?”
“Well, ’bout the time the kids got married, Jim Murphy was making noise that he wanted to start this up. I had my doubts he could get it off the ground, but here it is.”
“Huh.”
“Yeah.”
A strange honking noise interrupted them.
“... is that....”
“The goose? Yeah.” It sounded again. “Suppose I should have cleaned it first, huh?”
John burst out laughing... which, from the twinkle in his eye, was what Cooper had been aiming for.
The goose was dead, cleaned, stuffed, and in John’s oven when the kids came over after the candlelight service on Christmas Eve. They were going to spend the night with their father and have an early day. Once again, they came in with their arms full of food, which the girls crammed into John’s refrigerator while the boys went back outside to bring in the gifts that Sam hadn’t had wrapped when he’d brought in the tree the day before.
Decorating it had been fun, even though they’d finally had to tell Cooper to stop eating the popcorn that was supposed to go in the garland.
When the boys came back in, Dean was singing something that sounded strangely like “We fish you a merry Grinchmas.” John didn’t even try to figure that one out.
Sam’s eyeroll was almost audible as they finally came in.
Daphne got the door and reset the salt lines.
“We opening all of ’em tonight or just one each?” Dean asked.
“One each,” Tricia said.
“Then the major demolition tomorrow!” Daphne laughed.
Dean laughed and kissed her, then deposited his load under the tree.
“One each, huh?” Sam laughed.
Dean reached into his back pocket, pulled out a Santa hat, and plopped it on Sam’s head. “You pick, Santa.”
Sam handed Daphne a small wrapped gift. A nearly identical one went to Tricia. One of the ones from John went to Dean and he chose another for himself. Then he handed a small one to John.
John blinked. “Thanks, Sammy.”
A nod and Sam sat down, picking at the tape on his present.
“You first, Papa John,” said Tricia.
John opened his gift and gasped as he pulled out a solid silver bracelet inscribed with all four of his kids’ names.
“Surprise!” they chorused.
John just sat, stunned.
“Well, put it on!” Daphne laughed.
John fastened it around his left wrist-and it fit like it had been made for him. Which-it had. He studied it for a moment; then, lost for words, he simply signed, Thank you.
Dean’s face lit to see his father using his hands.
“Dean next,” said Tricia, who had apparently appointed herself mistress of ceremonies.
Dean opened his father’s gift. And his jaw dropped as he pulled out a concealable holster. It would fit his 1911 perfectly-and it was the type that molded itself to the gun. Thank you.
John smiled and signed, You’re welcome.
Sam opened his next. It was an obsidian knife with a stag-horn handle, big enough to fit Sam’s hand. Even if he never needed one for a hunt, it would be a good knife for him to have-sharper than surgical steel and never needed sharpening.
Sam beamed at his father. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome, son.”
Daphne’s was a small pure silver cross. She gasped and kissed Dean soundly. Dean returned it, nuzzling her cheek.
“And you said we were gross,” Sam grumbled good-naturedly.
Tricia laughed as she opened her gift. Then she stared at the plain silver ring.
John frowned. “I don’t understand.”
She lifted it out and raised it to the light. “... oh, SAMMY....”
Inside was an inscription. Just one word, in Latin. Amor.
She slipped it on her right hand and kissed him.
“So your hands are balanced now, Sis?” Daphne teased.
“Yup!” she beamed, holding them out in front of her.
At John’s frown, Sam explained, “She wanted a ‘band for each hand.’”
“Oh, I see.”
They chatted happily for a while longer, until John finally decided to turn in and let them keep talking if they wanted to. They wouldn’t keep him awake-especially if they signed.
Which they immediately began doing-so they wouldn’t keep him awake.
In fact, it was the combined smell of coffee, pancakes, and roasted goose that woke John the next morning. He came downstairs to find the kids already hard at work in the kitchen-and still signing.
Dad up, Tricia said and they switched to speech.
“Mornin’,” John rumbled with a nod, his sleepy voice deepened even more than usual.
“Merry Christmas, Dad,” they chorused.
And damned if that didn’t warm him up better than the coffee did.
“Mr. Cooper will be here at ten, he said,” Sam said from his position crouched by the open oven.
John nodded. “Let me get some breakfast, then, and I’ll go make myself presentable.”
Sam rose with a ladle in his hand and Dean shut the oven door. They moved like a well-oiled machine, his boys. And his boys’ girls now moved as part of that machine. Daphne was making eggs and Tricia sausage while Dean babysat the pancakes. “Keep Dad away from the toaster, girls,” Dean teased without turning around.
John pretended to cuff Dean on the back of the head, and Dean pretended to stagger.
Anger flashed in Sam and Daphne’s eyes for a second - Tricia didn’t see it - but then they realized both were smiling and it was just a tease, and their protective claws were pulled in. John realized then that he was still on thin ice on some points-the kids had taken him back, but he still had a long way to go to be completely back in their good graces.
Sorry, he signed.
Both nodded at him.
After breakfast, John got cleaned up and came back down moments before someone knocked shave-and-a-haircut, followed by ringing the doorbell.
“Why do you bother to knock?” he quipped, opening the door for Cooper.
Cooper scoffed. “Like I’d drop in on this bunch unannounced. There are some things I don’t need to know,” he added with a wink at the kids.
And all four blushed slightly.
John laughed. “Merry Christmas, Bill.”
“Merry Christmas, John.”
“What does one get a demigod for Christmas, anyway?” It was a tease. It was a jibe.
It was an olive branch.
“I wouldn’t know,” Cooper returned with a sidelong glance at the kids, who obviously still didn’t believe he wasn’t human. “But I hear Loki was particularly fond of dark chocolate and ribbon candy,” he added with a wink.
“Bill? Go check the left-hand pantry. I think the candy faery delivered some ribbons earlier.”
Cooper laughed and slapped John on the back before heading into the kitchen. “You’re all right, Winchester.”
John followed him. “I’m trying. For the kids’ sake.”
“Good. Keep doing that. Might end up surprising yourself.”
“So which is it?” John asked, low and soft, once they were out of the kids’ earshot. “Bill or Loki?”
Cooper’s eyes glittered with mischief. “Around here, I’m just Bill. As for my real name... well, you gotta let me have some secrets, John.”
“And I can’t. That’s hardly fair.”
“Hey, I can’t help the fact that you’re human and I’m not. But it’s not like I can read your mind 24/7. I want to keep your boys safe. Prank fodder is just a bonus.”
“Using them as fodder or me?”
“Oh, you, definitely. With them I’ve already got ten years of blackmail material to spring on their kids,” he added with a devious grin and a waggle of the eyebrows.
‘Great,” John rolled his eyes.
“Aw, come on, John. You know you love me.”
“Nope.”
Cooper pouted exaggeratedly. “Not even a little?”
“You care for my boys. That’s gold to me.”
Cooper gave him a genuine smile. “They’re good men, John. Remember that.”
“They’re what you made them.”
“I only helped. They made their own choices. Free will’s a tricky thing, but these two... they’ve got good, strong consciences. Hell, ask Dean to show you his paper on the Children’s Crusade sometime. That was his mid-term project his first year here. Blew me away.”
“Yeah? Never figured him for a history buff.”
“Now that, I might have had something to do with. But he came up with ten-ten-different ways the Children’s Crusade could have been avoided. All on his own.”
“At sixteen?”
“At sixteen. Even then, Dean had a hunger for justice like you wouldn’t believe. And Sam’s the same way.”
John looked over at his children, lost in thought. Weighing what he knew against what he’d been told.
“They’re happy, John. They’re healthy. They’re stable. And they’re strong.” Cooper paused. “Even Kali was impressed.”
John’s head snapped around, his eyes huge. “KALI?” he squeaked.
Cooper shrugged. “Needed her help with something a few years back, and she still drops by now and then. The kids haven’t met her face to face, but she likes them.”
“Shit, Bill....”
“Hey, take it easy, John. Not every supernatural being is a monster. Kali might be the Destroyer, but she’s not all bad.”
“Will I meet her?”
“Anything’s possible, but I wouldn’t count on it. She’s not around all that much. But if you hear someone refer to my cousin Carol from Ohio, that’s who they’re talking about.”
That brought a smile to John’s face.
Why you stand here and talk talk talk? Dean signed as he walked into the kitchen. We have food to fix!
“Just gettin’ to know your dad, Deano.”
Dean mock-glared at Cooper and shoved a tablecloth into his hands. Out. Need space.
“Bossy, bossy.” But he went.
Dean chuckled and shoved the silverware chest into John’s hands. “Remember, Dad, these go on the table. Ellen would have kittens if you used ’em for bullets.”
“She’s coming?”
“Nah, not this year, but that was our wedding present from her and Jo and Ash.”
“Dreading seeing her again.”
Dean frowned. “Why? Afraid she’ll give you hell about being pinned down for ten years?”
“If she doesn’t kill me outright.”
“Why would she do that?”
“I got her husband killed.”
Dean recoiled, then shook his head. “Look, Dad, now’s not the time for me to grill you for the whole story, but-I know you’ve been to the Roadhouse since Bill died. Did it ever occur to you that she might be willing to look past that, even if she can’t forgive you?”
The look John gave him showed him that hadn’t crossed his mind.
Dean nodded. “’Swhat I thought.” Then he flapped his hands at John. “I gotta get this goose outta the oven. Scoot.”
“Don’t let too much air in there at once!” Cooper shouted from the living room. “You’ll fog the bird if you do!”
Dean shouted something back that sounded like Greek, and Cooper laughed.
“What was that?” John blinked.
Dean chuckled. “Inside joke.”
Sam and Daphne came in then to start work on the side dishes, so John swiped an apple and went to the dining room to start setting the table.
He was looking forward to the goose. He’d never tasted it before. And the fragrance of the roasted bird wasn’t the only one making his mouth water-pies, cranberry sauce and relish, ambrosia, even more kinds of vegetables than they’d had at Thanksgiving.... He had a feeling he’d be eating leftovers for weeks.
So it was a good thing that it all turned out to taste just as good as it smelled.
With Cooper there, the meal was even more filled with laughter and funny stories than Thanksgiving had been. All of them-well, the humans, at least-ate until they could eat no more, then fell asleep in the living room watching football. Cooper had disappeared by the time John woke up, and the kids were anxious to get on with the gift exchange, so John didn’t question whether the Trickster had let himself out. Instead, he let himself focus on the cries of delight that all the gifts, even his, were eliciting, and he was very pleasantly surprised by the gifts the kids got him. There were more stories and more food to be had before the kids finally dragged themselves away, but even though they stayed until well after dark, he found himself not wanting the evening to end.
John watched the headlights fade as his kids left him alone. It was strange, knowing that all he’d have to do was pick up the phone and any or all four of them would be there in less than ten minutes.
It was also strange how empty the house still felt after they left. John was glad to have the place to himself again, but... whenever the kids were there, the house was full of laughter. He hadn’t had that in too many years.
Speaking of laughter.... “You’re still here, aren’t you?”
Cooper stepped out from behind the Christmas tree. “Just thought I’d help with the cleanup.” He snapped his fingers, and what little mess the kids had left behind disappeared.
“Easy come, easy go,” John laughed.
“Aaaaand I have one last present for you.” He snapped his fingers again, and John found himself sitting in front of a roaring fire, wrapped in a comfortable blanket and with a steaming mug of hot chocolate in his hand.
“Wow....”
“All real, for as long as you want it. No tricks.”
“Why?”
“It’s Christmas.” Cooper’s usual smile turned a little wistful as he added, “Gloria in excelsis Deo, et in terra pax hominibus bonae voluntatis.”
And for once, John Winchester found himself at an absolute loss for words.
Cooper just winked and vanished.
Still stunned, John settled back to stare at the fire and took a sip of the hot chocolate. It was rich and sweet, with tiny marshmallows in it.
Just the way Mary used to make it.
She would have loved it here, he realized. Would have loved seeing the boys happy, healthy, and settled, with good wives and good jobs and so many friends.
Would have loved seeing him settled at last.
She would have been glad, too, to see him starting to reconcile with the boys. Things weren’t perfect between them yet, as the incident before breakfast had proved, but they were a whole lot better than they had been.
John found himself closing his eyes and thinking a thought aimed toward a God he still wasn’t sure even existed. Thank You.
Next
Chapter 2
Christmas
“I think we’ll have Christmas at your house this year, Dad,” said Daphne.
“Really?” replied John. “I’m still full from Thanksgiving.”
She laughed. “Really. We don’t have turkey for Christmas; we have ham and sometimes Bill Cooper brings a goose.”
John blinked. “Goose? Isn’t that awfully... Dickens?”
“He says it’s tradition, and Sam backs him up on that.” She gave an exaggerated sigh. “That’s what we get, I suppose, having a history teacher for a brother and another for a mentor....”
John laughed.
The distinct shape of Frank’s top-of-the-car lights showed at the window as he pulled into John’s drive.
“Uh-oh. Hope I didn’t forget to check in when I got off work.”
“Company? Call me back, Dad.”
“Right. Thanks, Daphne.” He hung up and went to the door to wait for Frank.
Frank walked up to the front door. He was smiling. That was always a good sign.
“Frank,” John said with a nod.
“John. Got a question for you.”
“Shoot.”
“What evening would be best for you to go get presents for your kids?”
John blinked. “Um. I... think Dean said they’re doing gifts on Christmas Eve.”
“Wasn’t what I asked. What evening would be best for you to get presents?”
“I... I don’t know. I hadn’t even thought about it.”
“Your sentence states that you may venture into Beaumont in the custody of a sworn officer of the law for special reasons. This counts.”
John blanched. “You mean go to the mall?!”
“Well, what did you have in mind?”
“Frank-do you have any idea how long it’s been since I’ve been able to afford to buy anything for my kids? I drew a blank on a wedding present, for Pete’s sake. How the hell am I supposed to know what they want for Christmas?”
Frank held up a hand. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. Just transportation if you wanted it.”
John sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry. I just... thanks. Let me think about it.”
Frank nodded and turned back to the car. “Oh, and John?” He smiled up at the house. “Merry Christmas.”
John smiled back. “Thanks, Frank. Same to you.”
As Frank drove away, John pondered his offer-but he truly had no idea what to get the kids. He thought he knew who might, however, so he picked up the phone and dialed. “Bobby? John Winchester-look, I need some help... no, dammit, not with hunting. Christmas presents.”
“For the kids, right?”
“Yeah. Looks like Olson built in a loophole to where I can go shopping for ‘special events.’”
“Or online.”
“... online? There’s stores on the Internet?”
Bobby grumbled.
John sighed. “Bobby, you know I only use the damn computer for research. How was I to know?”
“Emailing you a few links.”
“Thanks. Will... will those go just to stores, or are you sending specific information?”
“Yes.” And Singer hung up.
John grumbled something uncomplimentary and turned on his computer.
There were ten links in one email. Bobby was nothing if not thorough.
And a note attached. Use your real credit card. That’s why you have a job now. -B
John shook his head in amusement and clicked on the first link. It was a hunting supply store. For hunters of animals, but they did have some very good knives and guns. He picked out a few that he didn’t think the boys were likely to have and ordered them, hoping his legal status wouldn’t foul things up.
The next link was a bookstore. John wasn’t at all sure what kinds of books the kids might need, but he thought back over their conversation at Thanksgiving and picked out a couple of books he thought each of them might like. And then, on a whim, he looked at the rare books section and found one he knew Bobby didn’t have at a price that wasn’t heart-stopping.
There was another link marked for you. When he opened it, he found it was a subscription to one of those comedy sites. Paid for a year. Courtesy of Bob Singer.
John laughed. “That wily old son of a gun....”
There were other links - household stuff and just for fun stuff and car repair stuff.
But the last link gave him pause.
He opened it to find the note all it needs is your signature.
John was looking at a donation of hundreds of dollars to a nonprofit that was a front for supporting families of Hunters. Set up by one James Murphy.
The donation was in the name of J & M Winchester.
John ran a shaking hand over his nose and mouth as he fought tears. He didn’t know what to think.
All these years - his anger and revenge had blinded him to this?
Finally, his hand still shaking, he clicked the button to okay the donation-and then he finally broke down and wept.
John felt fabric settle over his shoulders and realized that not only wasn’t he alone-though he had been earlier-someone had draped a denim jacket over his shoulders in a gesture of comfort.
“Thanks, Bill,” he whispered.
“Anytime,” Cooper said, coming to sit beside him on a chair that hadn’t been there a moment ago. “What’s going on?”
John sniffled. “Uh. Just... doing some Christmas shopping, and... got kind of a surprise of my own.” He gestured toward the computer screen.
Cooper’s eyes widened. “That son of a gun really did it,” he said, beginning to grin. “Huh. Didn’t think he had it in him.”
John looked at him, startled. “What?”
“Well, ’bout the time the kids got married, Jim Murphy was making noise that he wanted to start this up. I had my doubts he could get it off the ground, but here it is.”
“Huh.”
“Yeah.”
A strange honking noise interrupted them.
“... is that....”
“The goose? Yeah.” It sounded again. “Suppose I should have cleaned it first, huh?”
John burst out laughing... which, from the twinkle in his eye, was what Cooper had been aiming for.
The goose was dead, cleaned, stuffed, and in John’s oven when the kids came over after the candlelight service on Christmas Eve. They were going to spend the night with their father and have an early day. Once again, they came in with their arms full of food, which the girls crammed into John’s refrigerator while the boys went back outside to bring in the gifts that Sam hadn’t had wrapped when he’d brought in the tree the day before.
Decorating it had been fun, even though they’d finally had to tell Cooper to stop eating the popcorn that was supposed to go in the garland.
When the boys came back in, Dean was singing something that sounded strangely like “We fish you a merry Grinchmas.” John didn’t even try to figure that one out.
Sam’s eyeroll was almost audible as they finally came in.
Daphne got the door and reset the salt lines.
“We opening all of ’em tonight or just one each?” Dean asked.
“One each,” Tricia said.
“Then the major demolition tomorrow!” Daphne laughed.
Dean laughed and kissed her, then deposited his load under the tree.
“One each, huh?” Sam laughed.
Dean reached into his back pocket, pulled out a Santa hat, and plopped it on Sam’s head. “You pick, Santa.”
Sam handed Daphne a small wrapped gift. A nearly identical one went to Tricia. One of the ones from John went to Dean and he chose another for himself. Then he handed a small one to John.
John blinked. “Thanks, Sammy.”
A nod and Sam sat down, picking at the tape on his present.
“You first, Papa John,” said Tricia.
John opened his gift and gasped as he pulled out a solid silver bracelet inscribed with all four of his kids’ names.
“Surprise!” they chorused.
John just sat, stunned.
“Well, put it on!” Daphne laughed.
John fastened it around his left wrist-and it fit like it had been made for him. Which-it had. He studied it for a moment; then, lost for words, he simply signed, Thank you.
Dean’s face lit to see his father using his hands.
“Dean next,” said Tricia, who had apparently appointed herself mistress of ceremonies.
Dean opened his father’s gift. And his jaw dropped as he pulled out a concealable holster. It would fit his 1911 perfectly-and it was the type that molded itself to the gun. Thank you.
John smiled and signed, You’re welcome.
Sam opened his next. It was an obsidian knife with a stag-horn handle, big enough to fit Sam’s hand. Even if he never needed one for a hunt, it would be a good knife for him to have-sharper than surgical steel and never needed sharpening.
Sam beamed at his father. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome, son.”
Daphne’s was a small pure silver cross. She gasped and kissed Dean soundly. Dean returned it, nuzzling her cheek.
“And you said we were gross,” Sam grumbled good-naturedly.
Tricia laughed as she opened her gift. Then she stared at the plain silver ring.
John frowned. “I don’t understand.”
She lifted it out and raised it to the light. “... oh, SAMMY....”
Inside was an inscription. Just one word, in Latin. Amor.
She slipped it on her right hand and kissed him.
“So your hands are balanced now, Sis?” Daphne teased.
“Yup!” she beamed, holding them out in front of her.
At John’s frown, Sam explained, “She wanted a ‘band for each hand.’”
“Oh, I see.”
They chatted happily for a while longer, until John finally decided to turn in and let them keep talking if they wanted to. They wouldn’t keep him awake-especially if they signed.
Which they immediately began doing-so they wouldn’t keep him awake.
In fact, it was the combined smell of coffee, pancakes, and roasted goose that woke John the next morning. He came downstairs to find the kids already hard at work in the kitchen-and still signing.
Dad up, Tricia said and they switched to speech.
“Mornin’,” John rumbled with a nod, his sleepy voice deepened even more than usual.
“Merry Christmas, Dad,” they chorused.
And damned if that didn’t warm him up better than the coffee did.
“Mr. Cooper will be here at ten, he said,” Sam said from his position crouched by the open oven.
John nodded. “Let me get some breakfast, then, and I’ll go make myself presentable.”
Sam rose with a ladle in his hand and Dean shut the oven door. They moved like a well-oiled machine, his boys. And his boys’ girls now moved as part of that machine. Daphne was making eggs and Tricia sausage while Dean babysat the pancakes. “Keep Dad away from the toaster, girls,” Dean teased without turning around.
John pretended to cuff Dean on the back of the head, and Dean pretended to stagger.
Anger flashed in Sam and Daphne’s eyes for a second - Tricia didn’t see it - but then they realized both were smiling and it was just a tease, and their protective claws were pulled in. John realized then that he was still on thin ice on some points-the kids had taken him back, but he still had a long way to go to be completely back in their good graces.
Sorry, he signed.
Both nodded at him.
After breakfast, John got cleaned up and came back down moments before someone knocked shave-and-a-haircut, followed by ringing the doorbell.
“Why do you bother to knock?” he quipped, opening the door for Cooper.
Cooper scoffed. “Like I’d drop in on this bunch unannounced. There are some things I don’t need to know,” he added with a wink at the kids.
And all four blushed slightly.
John laughed. “Merry Christmas, Bill.”
“Merry Christmas, John.”
“What does one get a demigod for Christmas, anyway?” It was a tease. It was a jibe.
It was an olive branch.
“I wouldn’t know,” Cooper returned with a sidelong glance at the kids, who obviously still didn’t believe he wasn’t human. “But I hear Loki was particularly fond of dark chocolate and ribbon candy,” he added with a wink.
“Bill? Go check the left-hand pantry. I think the candy faery delivered some ribbons earlier.”
Cooper laughed and slapped John on the back before heading into the kitchen. “You’re all right, Winchester.”
John followed him. “I’m trying. For the kids’ sake.”
“Good. Keep doing that. Might end up surprising yourself.”
“So which is it?” John asked, low and soft, once they were out of the kids’ earshot. “Bill or Loki?”
Cooper’s eyes glittered with mischief. “Around here, I’m just Bill. As for my real name... well, you gotta let me have some secrets, John.”
“And I can’t. That’s hardly fair.”
“Hey, I can’t help the fact that you’re human and I’m not. But it’s not like I can read your mind 24/7. I want to keep your boys safe. Prank fodder is just a bonus.”
“Using them as fodder or me?”
“Oh, you, definitely. With them I’ve already got ten years of blackmail material to spring on their kids,” he added with a devious grin and a waggle of the eyebrows.
‘Great,” John rolled his eyes.
“Aw, come on, John. You know you love me.”
“Nope.”
Cooper pouted exaggeratedly. “Not even a little?”
“You care for my boys. That’s gold to me.”
Cooper gave him a genuine smile. “They’re good men, John. Remember that.”
“They’re what you made them.”
“I only helped. They made their own choices. Free will’s a tricky thing, but these two... they’ve got good, strong consciences. Hell, ask Dean to show you his paper on the Children’s Crusade sometime. That was his mid-term project his first year here. Blew me away.”
“Yeah? Never figured him for a history buff.”
“Now that, I might have had something to do with. But he came up with ten-ten-different ways the Children’s Crusade could have been avoided. All on his own.”
“At sixteen?”
“At sixteen. Even then, Dean had a hunger for justice like you wouldn’t believe. And Sam’s the same way.”
John looked over at his children, lost in thought. Weighing what he knew against what he’d been told.
“They’re happy, John. They’re healthy. They’re stable. And they’re strong.” Cooper paused. “Even Kali was impressed.”
John’s head snapped around, his eyes huge. “KALI?” he squeaked.
Cooper shrugged. “Needed her help with something a few years back, and she still drops by now and then. The kids haven’t met her face to face, but she likes them.”
“Shit, Bill....”
“Hey, take it easy, John. Not every supernatural being is a monster. Kali might be the Destroyer, but she’s not all bad.”
“Will I meet her?”
“Anything’s possible, but I wouldn’t count on it. She’s not around all that much. But if you hear someone refer to my cousin Carol from Ohio, that’s who they’re talking about.”
That brought a smile to John’s face.
Why you stand here and talk talk talk? Dean signed as he walked into the kitchen. We have food to fix!
“Just gettin’ to know your dad, Deano.”
Dean mock-glared at Cooper and shoved a tablecloth into his hands. Out. Need space.
“Bossy, bossy.” But he went.
Dean chuckled and shoved the silverware chest into John’s hands. “Remember, Dad, these go on the table. Ellen would have kittens if you used ’em for bullets.”
“She’s coming?”
“Nah, not this year, but that was our wedding present from her and Jo and Ash.”
“Dreading seeing her again.”
Dean frowned. “Why? Afraid she’ll give you hell about being pinned down for ten years?”
“If she doesn’t kill me outright.”
“Why would she do that?”
“I got her husband killed.”
Dean recoiled, then shook his head. “Look, Dad, now’s not the time for me to grill you for the whole story, but-I know you’ve been to the Roadhouse since Bill died. Did it ever occur to you that she might be willing to look past that, even if she can’t forgive you?”
The look John gave him showed him that hadn’t crossed his mind.
Dean nodded. “’Swhat I thought.” Then he flapped his hands at John. “I gotta get this goose outta the oven. Scoot.”
“Don’t let too much air in there at once!” Cooper shouted from the living room. “You’ll fog the bird if you do!”
Dean shouted something back that sounded like Greek, and Cooper laughed.
“What was that?” John blinked.
Dean chuckled. “Inside joke.”
Sam and Daphne came in then to start work on the side dishes, so John swiped an apple and went to the dining room to start setting the table.
He was looking forward to the goose. He’d never tasted it before. And the fragrance of the roasted bird wasn’t the only one making his mouth water-pies, cranberry sauce and relish, ambrosia, even more kinds of vegetables than they’d had at Thanksgiving.... He had a feeling he’d be eating leftovers for weeks.
So it was a good thing that it all turned out to taste just as good as it smelled.
With Cooper there, the meal was even more filled with laughter and funny stories than Thanksgiving had been. All of them-well, the humans, at least-ate until they could eat no more, then fell asleep in the living room watching football. Cooper had disappeared by the time John woke up, and the kids were anxious to get on with the gift exchange, so John didn’t question whether the Trickster had let himself out. Instead, he let himself focus on the cries of delight that all the gifts, even his, were eliciting, and he was very pleasantly surprised by the gifts the kids got him. There were more stories and more food to be had before the kids finally dragged themselves away, but even though they stayed until well after dark, he found himself not wanting the evening to end.
John watched the headlights fade as his kids left him alone. It was strange, knowing that all he’d have to do was pick up the phone and any or all four of them would be there in less than ten minutes.
It was also strange how empty the house still felt after they left. John was glad to have the place to himself again, but... whenever the kids were there, the house was full of laughter. He hadn’t had that in too many years.
Speaking of laughter.... “You’re still here, aren’t you?”
Cooper stepped out from behind the Christmas tree. “Just thought I’d help with the cleanup.” He snapped his fingers, and what little mess the kids had left behind disappeared.
“Easy come, easy go,” John laughed.
“Aaaaand I have one last present for you.” He snapped his fingers again, and John found himself sitting in front of a roaring fire, wrapped in a comfortable blanket and with a steaming mug of hot chocolate in his hand.
“Wow....”
“All real, for as long as you want it. No tricks.”
“Why?”
“It’s Christmas.” Cooper’s usual smile turned a little wistful as he added, “Gloria in excelsis Deo, et in terra pax hominibus bonae voluntatis.”
And for once, John Winchester found himself at an absolute loss for words.
Cooper just winked and vanished.
Still stunned, John settled back to stare at the fire and took a sip of the hot chocolate. It was rich and sweet, with tiny marshmallows in it.
Just the way Mary used to make it.
She would have loved it here, he realized. Would have loved seeing the boys happy, healthy, and settled, with good wives and good jobs and so many friends.
Would have loved seeing him settled at last.
She would have been glad, too, to see him starting to reconcile with the boys. Things weren’t perfect between them yet, as the incident before breakfast had proved, but they were a whole lot better than they had been.
John found himself closing his eyes and thinking a thought aimed toward a God he still wasn’t sure even existed. Thank You.
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