Fic: An Impala Full of Toys and the Winchesters Too
Title: An Impala Full of Toys and the Winchesters Too
Author: me (princess_schez)
Rating: PG-13 for some language
Genre: Gen
Summary: Santa's sleigh is down for the count and he wants to borrow Baby. Dean insists on driving. Written for Crowley's Covert Christmas Fic Exchange on spn_bigpretzel. Thanks to sendintheklowns for the beta, and to siennavie for truly awesome banner. :-)
Dean prepared to settle himself on the couch in the bunker, eggnog in one hand, a slice of pie in the other, and big a smile on his face. He had been waiting for this moment, this time to indulge in his gluttony. Sam was already sitting on one of the couches, long legs propped up, flipping through the channels with a slight scowl, looking for something non-sappy on the T.V. Given that it was the night before Christmas, that was virtually impossible. Everything was sap after sap, after more sap.
Dean wondered if he'd need a pancake to blow his nose on with all the sappiness he had to endure.
After what seemed like eternity, Dean spoke up.
"C'mon, there's got to something worth watching," Dean complained, before sipping their own unique version of holiday cheer that truly couldn't be called eggnog anymore.
"Not unless you want to watch the same Christmas movies they show every year," Sam replied, flipping through yet another channel.
"At least give me some holiday porn," the elder Winchester grumbled.
Sam was going to comment when a loud crash, followed by a boom, silenced the brothers. Shooting a look at one another, and thinking they were under attack, they quickly grabbed their guns and made their way to the bunker's entrance. Giving each other a silent signal, they drew their weapons and took aim as Dean opened the door.
"Ho, ho, h-Wait! Don't shoot!"
Sam shot a quick look at Dean, who seemed just as confused as he watched the fat man in the red suit hold his hands in the air like a prisoner. Just in case, Dean reached for the vial in his back pocket and splashed him with holy water to verify that it wasn't Crowley playing some kind of trick. The holy water soaked his long white beard as he spit out some of it out, but seemed unfazed and unaffected. At least until Sam reached for the silver knife in his pocket and made to stab the intruder.
"Wait! Please, I'm not a demon or a shapeshifter! I'm St. Nick! You know, Santa Claus? I know you're the Winchesters, and I understand what you're doing, but please hear me out. I need your help."
"We don't know who you are, but Santa ain't real. So tell us who you are and we won't kill you as painfully," Dean spat.
"I really am Santa!" he protested. "What can I do to prove it? My sleigh is right outside."
The Winchester's looked at one another, unsure. Finally after a moment, Dean spoke up. "Okay, show us this sleigh then."
The man turned, hands still raised and began to lead the brothers outside. "I'm not buying this, are you?" Dean whispered to Sam, but truthfully, they were both flummoxed. They had seen some bizarre shit in their lives, so why not this? If he was real, they would probably be on the naughty list until they died. Which, given their track record, probably wouldn't last very long.
Sam chewed his lip, not saying anything as they made their way into the cold night air. They stopped in their tracks, not from the cold, but from what awaited their eyes. Well, if he hadn't been right.....
Eight reindeer, a bag full of goodies, and a large red sleigh with a gash in the side. The Winchesters turned to face each other, their faces blank of any emotion before their eyes traveled back onto the reindeer, watching as they pawed at the ground. This beat out the suicidal teddy bear by a long shot.
"Well, I'll be damned," the brothers muttered in unison.
Blood and gore they could handle, but something as innocent as Santa and his reindeer was such a foreign concept that was lost on both of them. Shaking his head in disbelief, Dean said with a chuckle, "I gotta hand it to you. This, this is a great scam, so why don't you tell us who the hell you really are?"
"Why do you have such a hard time believing in me?" the man inquired. Placing a finger aside his nose, he disappeared from sight, only to reappear back in the same spot, a friendly twinkle in his eyes.
"Dean, I hate to say it, but I think he's legit."
"No, it can't be. Really? Angels, faeries, now Santa Claus? What's next? The friggin' Easter Bunny?"
"We see a lot of weird stuff in our lives, besides, the legend of Santa actually dates to an actual person."
Dean looked at his brother in disbelief, cutting him off before he could delve into some random and useless knowledge he wasn't interested in. He couldn't believe Sam was falling for it. This had to be some ruse concocted by Crowley. Or Castiel finally got a sense of humor. But until he knew the truth, this guy wasn't going anywhere, and he didn't really care what this looked like to onlookers, Santa being held up at gun point by two men. They needed to get to the bottom of this.
"Okay, let's just say that you are real," Dean began, gun still aimed on the man claiming to be the jolly ol' elf, "what do you need us for?"
The man sighed. "I was just beginning my route when this happened." He indicated the damage along side the sleigh. "I can't fly and my elves can't get here in time to fix it."
The only thing Dean took away from that conversation was the word "elves." And while Dean was processing the newfound knowledge, Sam had a few questions of his own.
"What makes you think we can help you? We're hunters, not elves. We don't know how to fix.... that," Sam said, indicating toward the sleigh. "We can't pimp Santa's ride."
Dean snorted, earning him a dark glare from Sam, but the younger Winchester turned back to face the stranger.
"In my off time, I'm a bit of a classic car enthusiast. Just so happens I was in the area and saw this beauty. V8 three-hundred and seven four barrel engine, two-hundred and seventy five horsepower, talk about a sweet ride." He indicated the Impala with the kind of reverence Sam was used to seeing on Dean's face. "I was hoping maybe I could borrow your car to make my world-wide journey."
It was the fact that he was talking about using his beloved Baby that snapped Dean's attention back to the matter at hand, though he couldn't help but swell a bit with pride as Santa gushed over his Baby.
"Y-you want to use my car to make your deliveries?" Dean asked, incredulously. "You do know that '67 Impala's don't fly, right?"
Santa winked at them. "Just takes a little bit of magic."
'Cause magic had never backfired on them in the past. But more importantly, Santa would have to pry the car keys from Dean's cold dead hands before his brother would just simply let some random person take his baby.
"Oh Hell no, you ain't taking my wheels," Dean informed. "I don't let just anybody drive her, hell, I barely let Sammy here drive her and he's my brother."
Sam coughed in agreement, acknowledging that despite sharing DNA, even he wasn't allowed to drive the precious most of the time. That was a privilege bestowed onto very few. And by few, he knew was none.
"I just need to borrow it for the night," St. Nick replied. "As a sign of good faith," he began, going over to his sleigh and reaching into the bag and pulling two brightly colored boxes out, handing them to the brothers, "For you two."
Tentatively they lowered their weapons, accepting the boxes with some trepidation.
"Uh, thanks?" Sam said.
The Winchesters looked at one another before looking at the boxes again waiting to see if they would explode. When nothing happened, they stored their guns back in the waistband of their pants and began opening the boxes. Dean was the first to open his, pulling quite possibly the biggest pie Sam ever laid eyes on. Dean's eyes widened at the sheer size.
Gluttony, thy name was Dean Winchester. Hastily Sam opened his package and found nestled inside two tickets to Disneyland, something he had always wanted.
The brothers glanced at one another, before looked at the man who called himself Santa. The jolly elf snapped his fingers and the presents disappeared. "Don't worry, I just placed them inside your Men of Letters bunker. Now do you believe me?" he said with a smirk.
"How do you know this is the Men of Letters bunker?" Dean asked, to which the man simply smiled mysteriously. "Okay," he began slowly, "let's say we will help you, but only on one condition."
-0-
Dean gripped the steering wheel tightly, a sign of impending air-born doom, as Sam struggled to fit in the backseat. Normally there would be plenty of room, but given that Dean would only let St. Nick use the Impala if he drove, meant that Santa was riding shotgun, and the younger Winchester found himself being squeezed out by the bag of goodies in the back. Grumbling, Sam figured if Santa could charm his bag of toys to fit in the car, surely he could've seen to it that he could've gotten some more leg room.
Santa slid into the passenger side with little difficulty, and much to both their surprise, began fiddling with the radio dial. Dean shot a look over, shaking his head as "White Christmas" began to fill the Impala. Dean quickly reached over and turned the station so that "Running with the Devil" soon came blasting out.
A blissful calm came over Dean, as he looked at Santa. "Dude, jolly elf or not, driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole. Besides, the type of music you listen to, no one outside of ninety would listen to."
Sam raised an eyebrow, noting the audacity his brother had at calling Santa "old." Dean, however, wasn't fazed as he put the car in drive and began to take off....and up. And instead of getting angry, Santa actually laughed.
Sam peered out the window, looking at the bunker as it became smaller and smaller the further they ascended. The Impala was flying! Santa chuckled again, as Dean gripped the steering wheel a little tighter than normal. Below them, the faint glow of city lights twinkled as up in the front seat, Santa pulled out a large map, studying it carefully.
"I can't believe we're flying!" Dean exclaimed, eyes wide with something that wasn't quite awe.
"Of course we are! Couldn't make it around the world by driving now, could we?" Santa replied.
"N-no, of course," Dean answered hoarsely.
"Ah, yes, I forgot, you don't like flying, Dean."
"Not so much flying as thinking we're going to crash," the older Winchester replied, still white-knuckling it. And perhaps looking a bit green as well.
"Don't worry, this baby won't crash," St. Nick replied, patting the dashboard lovingly. "I know a thing or two about magic."
"No offense, sir, but isn't that why you're using our car instead of your sleigh to deliver the toys?" Sam inquired. "Because you crashed?"
"Been wondering that myself," Dean mumbled. "I mean if anything happens to my baby, you-"
"Forgive my brother, but he needs alone time with his car, apparently," Sam smirked.
"Shut it, Sam. Seriously, though, how did you wreck your sleigh?"
"An old man's folly. Interesting story, but I'll have to tell it to you when we have the time. Right now," he looked at his pocket watch and gasped, "we need to step on it to make up for lost time."
Dean shot a look back at Sam, but before either one could comment, Santa began fiddling with his map and announced, "We're going to make a right up here."
Sighing, Dean let the blissful waves of Van Halen wash over him and calm his nausea as he steered the car, wondering if anybody below could see the flying Impala above. He could only imagine the thoughts going through their heads...
They flew over a tiny suburb, where a row of houses decorated the scenery, and as Dean descended, realized it had begun snowing. The entire thing would've made a lovely picture had it not been for the spectacle of the flying car. And despite this being the older Winchester's first time flying, he hovered the car spectacularly over the first house. Instead of the prancing and pawing of each tiny little hooves, the residents below were treated to the rumble of the Impala's engine and rock music blasting from the speakers. Santa turned off the radio, explaining that he "didn't want to wake anyone up," before he hopped out of the car, and grabbing his bag, disappearing down the chimney with a smile.
A few minutes later, he reappeared and journeyed to the next house, all the while Dean tapped the wheel impatiently, and Sam stretched out his feet while he had the time.
"You know, I still can't believe we're doing this," Dean spoke up. "Maybe our eggnog went bad or something."
"So you think we're both tripping, then?" Sam replied. "Seems a bit farfetched that we would both have the same hallucination at the same time."
"More farfetched than being on the magical mystery tour with Santa himself?"
"At least we're not in a yellow submarine," Sam chuckled.
His brother nodded, as he continued his one-man drum solo. Sam couldn't help but smirk as his brother tried to find a way to pass the time. Dean had the attention span of a toddler at times, and they were only at the second house, yet he was already getting impatient. God they were going to have a long night ahead of them... and Sam couldn't help but chuckle.
"What are you laughing at?" Dean asked, shooting a dark look back at his brother.
Sam didn't get to reply as St. Nick returned, dropping into the passenger seat, telling them where to go next. And this was how it was for the next few hours. Town after town, city after city, they went to different places, seeing the country from up above. Mount Rushmore, the Stature of Liberty, the Grand Canyon, all these were the same places the brothers had visited before, but seeing them from the sky was something spectacular. Not to mention they could actually enjoy the sights now and not have to worry about what monster they needed to kill. That was a definite plus in their book.
It was when they were flying over international waters when Santa pulled a long parchment, studying it very carefully.
"What's that?" Dean inquired, eyeing the parchment out of the corner of eye as Santa unrolled it and scribbled something hastily.
"This is the Naughty and Nice list."
"Are we on there? Are we on the Nice side?" Dean asked, trying to focus on driving, but found himself peeking over at the list instead.
"Ho ho ho, you can't look at this. This is for my eyes only," he smirked, rolling the parchment back up and sticking it in his pocket. "If people got hold of it, they'd try and take their name off the naughty side. Your friend Crowley tried doing that once. Needless to say he won't be trying THAT again."
"First off, Crowley ain't our friend, no matter what he says about the epic adventures of Growley and Squirrel and -"
Sam's head shot up from his phone, his face twisted in confused.
"- secondly, Crowley is on your list? You seriously deliver to Hell?"
"Oh no, definitely not. Our paths happened to cross once, and he tried to add his name to the Nice side. If that wasn't enough, he thought it would benefit both of us if he could have access to the naughty kids and convert them to his way."
That sounded like something the King of Hell would try: get the Naughty kids to join him, but it was knowing that he tried to get on the Nice list that had the Winchesters both snorting with laughter. The day Crowley ended up on the Nice list, Hell would freeze over.
Dean nodded, but the curiosity and the patented Winchester stubbornness was ever strong in him. He needed to see where he was on the list, and low and behold, when they were over Europe, Dean got his chance.
Santa was leaving the car when the parchment fell out of his back pocket, sitting on the passenger seat. Sam saw the glint of opportunity in Dean's eyes.
"Don't you even think about it, Dean," Sam hissed as he watched his brother snatch up the parchment. He certainly didn't want to be on the eternal naughty list all because of idiot his brother.
"C'mon Sam, aren't you the least bit curious?" Dean asked, grinning wider than the Cheshire Cat as he quickly scanned the list for their names. Sam huffed and crossed his arms as he slouched back in his seat, bitchface clearly evident.
Finally after a moment, Sam sat forward, leaning into the driver's seat as curiosity got the better of him. "Find anything good? See anybody we know?"
"Knew you couldn't resist, Sammy," Dean smirked. "I think - hey, wait a minute."
Dean scowled as pulled the parchment closer to his face. "No, no, this can't be right. What the hell, man!"
"What? What is it?" Sam exclaimed, noting the anger in Dean's voice.
Dean handed the list to Sam, not saying a word. It took him a moment to see why Dean was angry.
Dean Winchester - naughty.
Sam let out a sound that was a cross between a laugh and groan and that he quickly tried to cover up as a cough. Over on the otherwise his name with the other nice ones.
"There's gotta be some kind of mistake here."
"You're damn right there's a mistake," Dean snapped. "Lemme see that."
Tentatively Sam passed the list back to his brother who wasted no time in trying to scribble it out. "Uh, you think that's a good idea? You heard what Santa said about Crowley trying the same thing."
Dean paid him no mind. When he finished, he smiled triumphantly and rolled the parchment back up, placing it back on the seat when Santa returned. He looked at Dean, who looked like a deer in headlights.
"You, uh, dropped this and -" he began, but Santa wasn't buying it.
"Son, I've been around awhile, I've seen and heard every trick in the book, so don't bullshit the bullshitter."
"I-I couldn't help but notice that I was on the wrong side of the list," Dean mumbled quietly, feeling instantly like child.
"You were on the right side. Need I remind you, you were a demon for a time, and I must say, the things you and Crowley got up to...."
Sam opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by his brother. Silently he made a mental note to later ask Dean what sort of shenanigans he got in to with the King of Hell as his BFF.
"I didn't intentionally set out to become a demon," Dean replied indignantly. "The Mark-"
"Yes, and didn't I also tell you not to peek at the list?" He held up the part Dean scribbled on; Dean purposefully kept his eyes focused straight ahead.
"C'mon, you can't completely blame a guy for-"
"I'm Too Sexy? Imaginary Lovers?"
"Okay, you got a point there."
"Wait. What?" Sam wanted, no, needed to know. How did Santa know what his brother did but not him?
"Look, it was a strange time. Wasn't exactly myself," Dean retorted. "I mean, you did see who I was hanging out with, right?"
And that was the next hour on their journey. Sam sat back and was forced to listen as Dean and Santa went back and forth about his time as a demon. Which Sam quickly learned involved bad karaoke, lots of alcohol, women, and bloodshed. Aside from the unusually high number of deaths and pitch-black eyes, the rest sounded like regular Dean. Sam had to hand it to Crowley, he must've had some high patience for putting up with his brother as long as he did.
Sam contemplated as much as he could on the newfound knowledge, but a yawn quickly stifled his thoughts. It was nearing daybreak. The sun was barely peeking out from beyond the horizon. They had seen the world in the span of night. It was an experience that neither brother would ever forget. But they were tired, and St. Nick noticed this as he crossed the very last name off the list. "It would appear that our journey is nearing its end."
"Do you want us to take you to the North Pole?" Dean asked. "I wanna see me some elves... and some Mrs. Claus." Dean smirked to himself. Santa and Sam both shook their head.
"Dude, you're confusing reality and porn," Sam replied slightly sleepily.
"No, lets get you two home," Santa replied.
The bunker never looked so good as it did at that moment. Warm beds called to them, and Sam couldn't wait to curl up in it. Dean landed the Impala away from the bunker, not wanting whatever happened to the sleigh to happen to his beloved baby. Which, as the Winchesters looked around as the three men exited the vehicle, realized that Santa's sleigh was gone.
"My elves must've been by to pick it up," he said with a smile. "And I best be on my way. You two have important work to do and you'll need your rest."
Santa turned to go, but turned back around after a moment. "Just want you to know that you Men of Letters better behave next year." He winked at them.
"H-how do you know about the Men of Letters again?" Dean asked, eyebrows raised.
"Many years ago I helped them with a few cases and became good friends with them. Your grandfather was one I was particularly fond of. And over the years I apparently forgot that their bunker was protected from magical flying objects, which is what happened when I flew too close overhead. Again, an old man's folly. But," he said directly at Dean now, "not so old that I don't know what this is."
He gave them the fist of rock as a salute and disappeared with a smirk.
-0-
It was some time later that Sam and Dean awoke. It was midafternoon when groggily they made their way to the kitchen to make something to eat. But as they passed by, noticed a large Christmas tree sitting inside their living room with a couple of presents underneath.
Hunger forgotten, they dove into the presents, a faint tear coming to rest at the corners of Dean's eyes as he pulled out something he thought he'd never see again: the amulet. His amulet.
Sam dropped the gift he was currently opening to look at Dean, a smile spreading across his face. Proudly Dean slipped it over his head and smiled at his brother.
"I guess I'm off the naughty list," he said, trying to keep his voice calm and hide the emotions he felt swelling within him.
Sam grinned, wishing this moment could last forever. No Mark of Cain, demons, Crowley, or dealing with any big bad, just him and his brother enjoying a simple, peaceful holiday. "Merry Christmas, bro."
"Merry Christmas to you too.... bitch."
"Jerk."
Author: me (princess_schez)
Rating: PG-13 for some language
Genre: Gen
Summary: Santa's sleigh is down for the count and he wants to borrow Baby. Dean insists on driving. Written for Crowley's Covert Christmas Fic Exchange on spn_bigpretzel. Thanks to sendintheklowns for the beta, and to siennavie for truly awesome banner. :-)
Dean prepared to settle himself on the couch in the bunker, eggnog in one hand, a slice of pie in the other, and big a smile on his face. He had been waiting for this moment, this time to indulge in his gluttony. Sam was already sitting on one of the couches, long legs propped up, flipping through the channels with a slight scowl, looking for something non-sappy on the T.V. Given that it was the night before Christmas, that was virtually impossible. Everything was sap after sap, after more sap.
Dean wondered if he'd need a pancake to blow his nose on with all the sappiness he had to endure.
After what seemed like eternity, Dean spoke up.
"C'mon, there's got to something worth watching," Dean complained, before sipping their own unique version of holiday cheer that truly couldn't be called eggnog anymore.
"Not unless you want to watch the same Christmas movies they show every year," Sam replied, flipping through yet another channel.
"At least give me some holiday porn," the elder Winchester grumbled.
Sam was going to comment when a loud crash, followed by a boom, silenced the brothers. Shooting a look at one another, and thinking they were under attack, they quickly grabbed their guns and made their way to the bunker's entrance. Giving each other a silent signal, they drew their weapons and took aim as Dean opened the door.
"Ho, ho, h-Wait! Don't shoot!"
Sam shot a quick look at Dean, who seemed just as confused as he watched the fat man in the red suit hold his hands in the air like a prisoner. Just in case, Dean reached for the vial in his back pocket and splashed him with holy water to verify that it wasn't Crowley playing some kind of trick. The holy water soaked his long white beard as he spit out some of it out, but seemed unfazed and unaffected. At least until Sam reached for the silver knife in his pocket and made to stab the intruder.
"Wait! Please, I'm not a demon or a shapeshifter! I'm St. Nick! You know, Santa Claus? I know you're the Winchesters, and I understand what you're doing, but please hear me out. I need your help."
"We don't know who you are, but Santa ain't real. So tell us who you are and we won't kill you as painfully," Dean spat.
"I really am Santa!" he protested. "What can I do to prove it? My sleigh is right outside."
The Winchester's looked at one another, unsure. Finally after a moment, Dean spoke up. "Okay, show us this sleigh then."
The man turned, hands still raised and began to lead the brothers outside. "I'm not buying this, are you?" Dean whispered to Sam, but truthfully, they were both flummoxed. They had seen some bizarre shit in their lives, so why not this? If he was real, they would probably be on the naughty list until they died. Which, given their track record, probably wouldn't last very long.
Sam chewed his lip, not saying anything as they made their way into the cold night air. They stopped in their tracks, not from the cold, but from what awaited their eyes. Well, if he hadn't been right.....
Eight reindeer, a bag full of goodies, and a large red sleigh with a gash in the side. The Winchesters turned to face each other, their faces blank of any emotion before their eyes traveled back onto the reindeer, watching as they pawed at the ground. This beat out the suicidal teddy bear by a long shot.
"Well, I'll be damned," the brothers muttered in unison.
Blood and gore they could handle, but something as innocent as Santa and his reindeer was such a foreign concept that was lost on both of them. Shaking his head in disbelief, Dean said with a chuckle, "I gotta hand it to you. This, this is a great scam, so why don't you tell us who the hell you really are?"
"Why do you have such a hard time believing in me?" the man inquired. Placing a finger aside his nose, he disappeared from sight, only to reappear back in the same spot, a friendly twinkle in his eyes.
"Dean, I hate to say it, but I think he's legit."
"No, it can't be. Really? Angels, faeries, now Santa Claus? What's next? The friggin' Easter Bunny?"
"We see a lot of weird stuff in our lives, besides, the legend of Santa actually dates to an actual person."
Dean looked at his brother in disbelief, cutting him off before he could delve into some random and useless knowledge he wasn't interested in. He couldn't believe Sam was falling for it. This had to be some ruse concocted by Crowley. Or Castiel finally got a sense of humor. But until he knew the truth, this guy wasn't going anywhere, and he didn't really care what this looked like to onlookers, Santa being held up at gun point by two men. They needed to get to the bottom of this.
"Okay, let's just say that you are real," Dean began, gun still aimed on the man claiming to be the jolly ol' elf, "what do you need us for?"
The man sighed. "I was just beginning my route when this happened." He indicated the damage along side the sleigh. "I can't fly and my elves can't get here in time to fix it."
The only thing Dean took away from that conversation was the word "elves." And while Dean was processing the newfound knowledge, Sam had a few questions of his own.
"What makes you think we can help you? We're hunters, not elves. We don't know how to fix.... that," Sam said, indicating toward the sleigh. "We can't pimp Santa's ride."
Dean snorted, earning him a dark glare from Sam, but the younger Winchester turned back to face the stranger.
"In my off time, I'm a bit of a classic car enthusiast. Just so happens I was in the area and saw this beauty. V8 three-hundred and seven four barrel engine, two-hundred and seventy five horsepower, talk about a sweet ride." He indicated the Impala with the kind of reverence Sam was used to seeing on Dean's face. "I was hoping maybe I could borrow your car to make my world-wide journey."
It was the fact that he was talking about using his beloved Baby that snapped Dean's attention back to the matter at hand, though he couldn't help but swell a bit with pride as Santa gushed over his Baby.
"Y-you want to use my car to make your deliveries?" Dean asked, incredulously. "You do know that '67 Impala's don't fly, right?"
Santa winked at them. "Just takes a little bit of magic."
'Cause magic had never backfired on them in the past. But more importantly, Santa would have to pry the car keys from Dean's cold dead hands before his brother would just simply let some random person take his baby.
"Oh Hell no, you ain't taking my wheels," Dean informed. "I don't let just anybody drive her, hell, I barely let Sammy here drive her and he's my brother."
Sam coughed in agreement, acknowledging that despite sharing DNA, even he wasn't allowed to drive the precious most of the time. That was a privilege bestowed onto very few. And by few, he knew was none.
"I just need to borrow it for the night," St. Nick replied. "As a sign of good faith," he began, going over to his sleigh and reaching into the bag and pulling two brightly colored boxes out, handing them to the brothers, "For you two."
Tentatively they lowered their weapons, accepting the boxes with some trepidation.
"Uh, thanks?" Sam said.
The Winchesters looked at one another before looking at the boxes again waiting to see if they would explode. When nothing happened, they stored their guns back in the waistband of their pants and began opening the boxes. Dean was the first to open his, pulling quite possibly the biggest pie Sam ever laid eyes on. Dean's eyes widened at the sheer size.
Gluttony, thy name was Dean Winchester. Hastily Sam opened his package and found nestled inside two tickets to Disneyland, something he had always wanted.
The brothers glanced at one another, before looked at the man who called himself Santa. The jolly elf snapped his fingers and the presents disappeared. "Don't worry, I just placed them inside your Men of Letters bunker. Now do you believe me?" he said with a smirk.
"How do you know this is the Men of Letters bunker?" Dean asked, to which the man simply smiled mysteriously. "Okay," he began slowly, "let's say we will help you, but only on one condition."
-0-
Dean gripped the steering wheel tightly, a sign of impending air-born doom, as Sam struggled to fit in the backseat. Normally there would be plenty of room, but given that Dean would only let St. Nick use the Impala if he drove, meant that Santa was riding shotgun, and the younger Winchester found himself being squeezed out by the bag of goodies in the back. Grumbling, Sam figured if Santa could charm his bag of toys to fit in the car, surely he could've seen to it that he could've gotten some more leg room.
Santa slid into the passenger side with little difficulty, and much to both their surprise, began fiddling with the radio dial. Dean shot a look over, shaking his head as "White Christmas" began to fill the Impala. Dean quickly reached over and turned the station so that "Running with the Devil" soon came blasting out.
A blissful calm came over Dean, as he looked at Santa. "Dude, jolly elf or not, driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole. Besides, the type of music you listen to, no one outside of ninety would listen to."
Sam raised an eyebrow, noting the audacity his brother had at calling Santa "old." Dean, however, wasn't fazed as he put the car in drive and began to take off....and up. And instead of getting angry, Santa actually laughed.
Sam peered out the window, looking at the bunker as it became smaller and smaller the further they ascended. The Impala was flying! Santa chuckled again, as Dean gripped the steering wheel a little tighter than normal. Below them, the faint glow of city lights twinkled as up in the front seat, Santa pulled out a large map, studying it carefully.
"I can't believe we're flying!" Dean exclaimed, eyes wide with something that wasn't quite awe.
"Of course we are! Couldn't make it around the world by driving now, could we?" Santa replied.
"N-no, of course," Dean answered hoarsely.
"Ah, yes, I forgot, you don't like flying, Dean."
"Not so much flying as thinking we're going to crash," the older Winchester replied, still white-knuckling it. And perhaps looking a bit green as well.
"Don't worry, this baby won't crash," St. Nick replied, patting the dashboard lovingly. "I know a thing or two about magic."
"No offense, sir, but isn't that why you're using our car instead of your sleigh to deliver the toys?" Sam inquired. "Because you crashed?"
"Been wondering that myself," Dean mumbled. "I mean if anything happens to my baby, you-"
"Forgive my brother, but he needs alone time with his car, apparently," Sam smirked.
"Shut it, Sam. Seriously, though, how did you wreck your sleigh?"
"An old man's folly. Interesting story, but I'll have to tell it to you when we have the time. Right now," he looked at his pocket watch and gasped, "we need to step on it to make up for lost time."
Dean shot a look back at Sam, but before either one could comment, Santa began fiddling with his map and announced, "We're going to make a right up here."
Sighing, Dean let the blissful waves of Van Halen wash over him and calm his nausea as he steered the car, wondering if anybody below could see the flying Impala above. He could only imagine the thoughts going through their heads...
They flew over a tiny suburb, where a row of houses decorated the scenery, and as Dean descended, realized it had begun snowing. The entire thing would've made a lovely picture had it not been for the spectacle of the flying car. And despite this being the older Winchester's first time flying, he hovered the car spectacularly over the first house. Instead of the prancing and pawing of each tiny little hooves, the residents below were treated to the rumble of the Impala's engine and rock music blasting from the speakers. Santa turned off the radio, explaining that he "didn't want to wake anyone up," before he hopped out of the car, and grabbing his bag, disappearing down the chimney with a smile.
A few minutes later, he reappeared and journeyed to the next house, all the while Dean tapped the wheel impatiently, and Sam stretched out his feet while he had the time.
"You know, I still can't believe we're doing this," Dean spoke up. "Maybe our eggnog went bad or something."
"So you think we're both tripping, then?" Sam replied. "Seems a bit farfetched that we would both have the same hallucination at the same time."
"More farfetched than being on the magical mystery tour with Santa himself?"
"At least we're not in a yellow submarine," Sam chuckled.
His brother nodded, as he continued his one-man drum solo. Sam couldn't help but smirk as his brother tried to find a way to pass the time. Dean had the attention span of a toddler at times, and they were only at the second house, yet he was already getting impatient. God they were going to have a long night ahead of them... and Sam couldn't help but chuckle.
"What are you laughing at?" Dean asked, shooting a dark look back at his brother.
Sam didn't get to reply as St. Nick returned, dropping into the passenger seat, telling them where to go next. And this was how it was for the next few hours. Town after town, city after city, they went to different places, seeing the country from up above. Mount Rushmore, the Stature of Liberty, the Grand Canyon, all these were the same places the brothers had visited before, but seeing them from the sky was something spectacular. Not to mention they could actually enjoy the sights now and not have to worry about what monster they needed to kill. That was a definite plus in their book.
It was when they were flying over international waters when Santa pulled a long parchment, studying it very carefully.
"What's that?" Dean inquired, eyeing the parchment out of the corner of eye as Santa unrolled it and scribbled something hastily.
"This is the Naughty and Nice list."
"Are we on there? Are we on the Nice side?" Dean asked, trying to focus on driving, but found himself peeking over at the list instead.
"Ho ho ho, you can't look at this. This is for my eyes only," he smirked, rolling the parchment back up and sticking it in his pocket. "If people got hold of it, they'd try and take their name off the naughty side. Your friend Crowley tried doing that once. Needless to say he won't be trying THAT again."
"First off, Crowley ain't our friend, no matter what he says about the epic adventures of Growley and Squirrel and -"
Sam's head shot up from his phone, his face twisted in confused.
"- secondly, Crowley is on your list? You seriously deliver to Hell?"
"Oh no, definitely not. Our paths happened to cross once, and he tried to add his name to the Nice side. If that wasn't enough, he thought it would benefit both of us if he could have access to the naughty kids and convert them to his way."
That sounded like something the King of Hell would try: get the Naughty kids to join him, but it was knowing that he tried to get on the Nice list that had the Winchesters both snorting with laughter. The day Crowley ended up on the Nice list, Hell would freeze over.
Dean nodded, but the curiosity and the patented Winchester stubbornness was ever strong in him. He needed to see where he was on the list, and low and behold, when they were over Europe, Dean got his chance.
Santa was leaving the car when the parchment fell out of his back pocket, sitting on the passenger seat. Sam saw the glint of opportunity in Dean's eyes.
"Don't you even think about it, Dean," Sam hissed as he watched his brother snatch up the parchment. He certainly didn't want to be on the eternal naughty list all because of idiot his brother.
"C'mon Sam, aren't you the least bit curious?" Dean asked, grinning wider than the Cheshire Cat as he quickly scanned the list for their names. Sam huffed and crossed his arms as he slouched back in his seat, bitchface clearly evident.
Finally after a moment, Sam sat forward, leaning into the driver's seat as curiosity got the better of him. "Find anything good? See anybody we know?"
"Knew you couldn't resist, Sammy," Dean smirked. "I think - hey, wait a minute."
Dean scowled as pulled the parchment closer to his face. "No, no, this can't be right. What the hell, man!"
"What? What is it?" Sam exclaimed, noting the anger in Dean's voice.
Dean handed the list to Sam, not saying a word. It took him a moment to see why Dean was angry.
Dean Winchester - naughty.
Sam let out a sound that was a cross between a laugh and groan and that he quickly tried to cover up as a cough. Over on the otherwise his name with the other nice ones.
"There's gotta be some kind of mistake here."
"You're damn right there's a mistake," Dean snapped. "Lemme see that."
Tentatively Sam passed the list back to his brother who wasted no time in trying to scribble it out. "Uh, you think that's a good idea? You heard what Santa said about Crowley trying the same thing."
Dean paid him no mind. When he finished, he smiled triumphantly and rolled the parchment back up, placing it back on the seat when Santa returned. He looked at Dean, who looked like a deer in headlights.
"You, uh, dropped this and -" he began, but Santa wasn't buying it.
"Son, I've been around awhile, I've seen and heard every trick in the book, so don't bullshit the bullshitter."
"I-I couldn't help but notice that I was on the wrong side of the list," Dean mumbled quietly, feeling instantly like child.
"You were on the right side. Need I remind you, you were a demon for a time, and I must say, the things you and Crowley got up to...."
Sam opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by his brother. Silently he made a mental note to later ask Dean what sort of shenanigans he got in to with the King of Hell as his BFF.
"I didn't intentionally set out to become a demon," Dean replied indignantly. "The Mark-"
"Yes, and didn't I also tell you not to peek at the list?" He held up the part Dean scribbled on; Dean purposefully kept his eyes focused straight ahead.
"C'mon, you can't completely blame a guy for-"
"I'm Too Sexy? Imaginary Lovers?"
"Okay, you got a point there."
"Wait. What?" Sam wanted, no, needed to know. How did Santa know what his brother did but not him?
"Look, it was a strange time. Wasn't exactly myself," Dean retorted. "I mean, you did see who I was hanging out with, right?"
And that was the next hour on their journey. Sam sat back and was forced to listen as Dean and Santa went back and forth about his time as a demon. Which Sam quickly learned involved bad karaoke, lots of alcohol, women, and bloodshed. Aside from the unusually high number of deaths and pitch-black eyes, the rest sounded like regular Dean. Sam had to hand it to Crowley, he must've had some high patience for putting up with his brother as long as he did.
Sam contemplated as much as he could on the newfound knowledge, but a yawn quickly stifled his thoughts. It was nearing daybreak. The sun was barely peeking out from beyond the horizon. They had seen the world in the span of night. It was an experience that neither brother would ever forget. But they were tired, and St. Nick noticed this as he crossed the very last name off the list. "It would appear that our journey is nearing its end."
"Do you want us to take you to the North Pole?" Dean asked. "I wanna see me some elves... and some Mrs. Claus." Dean smirked to himself. Santa and Sam both shook their head.
"Dude, you're confusing reality and porn," Sam replied slightly sleepily.
"No, lets get you two home," Santa replied.
The bunker never looked so good as it did at that moment. Warm beds called to them, and Sam couldn't wait to curl up in it. Dean landed the Impala away from the bunker, not wanting whatever happened to the sleigh to happen to his beloved baby. Which, as the Winchesters looked around as the three men exited the vehicle, realized that Santa's sleigh was gone.
"My elves must've been by to pick it up," he said with a smile. "And I best be on my way. You two have important work to do and you'll need your rest."
Santa turned to go, but turned back around after a moment. "Just want you to know that you Men of Letters better behave next year." He winked at them.
"H-how do you know about the Men of Letters again?" Dean asked, eyebrows raised.
"Many years ago I helped them with a few cases and became good friends with them. Your grandfather was one I was particularly fond of. And over the years I apparently forgot that their bunker was protected from magical flying objects, which is what happened when I flew too close overhead. Again, an old man's folly. But," he said directly at Dean now, "not so old that I don't know what this is."
He gave them the fist of rock as a salute and disappeared with a smirk.
-0-
It was some time later that Sam and Dean awoke. It was midafternoon when groggily they made their way to the kitchen to make something to eat. But as they passed by, noticed a large Christmas tree sitting inside their living room with a couple of presents underneath.
Hunger forgotten, they dove into the presents, a faint tear coming to rest at the corners of Dean's eyes as he pulled out something he thought he'd never see again: the amulet. His amulet.
Sam dropped the gift he was currently opening to look at Dean, a smile spreading across his face. Proudly Dean slipped it over his head and smiled at his brother.
"I guess I'm off the naughty list," he said, trying to keep his voice calm and hide the emotions he felt swelling within him.
Sam grinned, wishing this moment could last forever. No Mark of Cain, demons, Crowley, or dealing with any big bad, just him and his brother enjoying a simple, peaceful holiday. "Merry Christmas, bro."
"Merry Christmas to you too.... bitch."
"Jerk."