Secret Satan Exchange for Stella Lost
TITLE: The Christmas Ornament
SUMMARY: written for stella_lost for this prompt- Wee!chesters- Young Dean (10-ish) not jaded by their upbringing yet, tells his little brother all that he remembers about the holiday season (Thanksgiving thru New Year’s) with their mother. His memories have the cloudiness of a little boy, but maybe he remembers stuff like her throwing a snowball at him as they played in the snow waiting for John to come home. How the house smelled when she baked cookies. How he used a step stool to hang the tiny stocking that she had knit for his unborn sibling. Just a beautiful remembrance to share with his brother since he has no memories of her.
AUTHOR: dollysdoodles
ARTIST: mamapranayama
BETA READER: lolaann1… Thanks a bunch!! As always. LolaAnn, herself only hopes all her cold medicines aren't showing too badly :(
RECIPIENT: stella_lost
CHARACTERS/PAIRINGS: wee!chesters and Johnny…Little bit of Bobby sprinkled too!
GENRE: Gen
RATING: PG
LENGTH: ~4000
THE CHRISTMAS ORNAMENT
John Winchester was badass, really he was.
If you ever had a monster problem, you know? Those ugly thingies with nasty supernatural teeth and horrible breath and what not, John Winchester was the guy you had to call. He would totally shoo the ugliness away. Oh, yes he would.
As already said, he was badass… and scary. He was very scary.
Didn’t matter if right now a barely 5-year old kid was busy poking at his fake moustache with an ice-cream stick. John was totally badass. Remember that!
Also, you might want to ignore his older son, the 9-year-old, dirty-blond-haired kid sniggering in the back seat, clearly thrilled at his father’s distress.
Basically, if you managed to ignore these two kids and their antics, John’s scariness would give you nightmares…Yeah, Yeah, it so would!
It had been John’s fault though; he should have never messed with that moustache. God only knew why in the hell John even thought about giving himself a makeover. Like, seriously, that had been the most stupid disguise he could have ever used.
Of course it didn’t end well!
Now, this fake hairy thing was going to be stuck to John’s face for another hour or so, not to mention, he was having a bizarre and very painful reaction to the glue and to top it all, his youngest son seemed to be very fascinated with the scratchy and painful looking red patch on his father’s face.
Oh, and it didn’t end there. The police were hot on their asses too, all because of the suspicion this stupid - make that - very, very, very stupid moustache had induced in the sheriff’s mind.
John barely had time to pick up his kids from the run down motel across the street when he had to make a run for it. At that instant, he was sure that he was gonna end up in county jail.
But now that he was safely back on the road, all he could think about was how good boiling water would feel on the raw and angry-looking red patch on his face.
The going was slow though. It was just a week until Christmas Eve and people had suddenly turned into whack jobs on shopping sprees, trying to buy anything and everything. The roads were jam packed with these whack jobs. God!! John never had hated driving so much as in Christmas season. Frigging merry making folks!!
They were heading out to Bobby’s now. John hadn’t had time to inform Bobby about their arrival beforehand. He hoped this surprise visit wouldn’t be scoffed upon much by the old man, as John had heard stories about stupid hunters showing up at Bobby’s place unannounced and getting whacked on the head with an uncooked Christmas turkey for it.
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Bobby looked out of the window; winters in South Dakota had always been rude. There were nasty blizzards, frozen mornings and even more ghastly nights. Not to mention the fucking snow!
The god damm snow was just…. There were no words to describe the atrocities of this thing. Sometimes Bobby just nick-named the frigging snow “idjit”. He felt better after that.
e always felt good after rightfully calling idjit things “idjits!!”
Snow was not the only idjit of the holiday seasons though, others fought tooth and nail for the job.
What with their crazy Thanksgiving dinners and those big fat useless turkeys (of course they were useless, after all Bobby had never been able to cook one properly!) and even crazier Black Friday shopping sprees that went on and on up until Christmas. People just didn’t have enough sense to remain inside their four walls when anyone with a lick of sense ought to. No, they had to prance about like frigging kids and get eaten by long forgotten Gods or smelly monsters.
Oh yes! Monsters and crazy gods always seemed to be on sale during this time of the year too.
After all, Christmas coincided with the Yule festival of the pagans and this time of the year, various pagan gods were just salivating for juicy tributes (read fat and porky humans with abundance of chest hair or…. other things).
Monsters just had themselves a frigging party!
Hunters worked overtime. They barely had a day or two to breathe before they had to drive off to another town where another frigging supernatural-lets-munch-on-clueless-humans-party seemed to be going on.
Bobby worked overtime too. At this backass time of the year, Bobby could usually be found snuggled beneath a dozen books and ancient texts, a lukewarm cup of very strong coffee in his hand, scuffling through books to find some clue about a nearly unheard of supernatural entity. After finding the desired information, Bobby would call the “I-need-info-else-this-thing-is-gonna-chew-out-my-ass” hunter and deliver him with the elixir of life.
It was so busy that sometimes Bobby didn’t even have time to turn up the heater or try that delicious peach cobbler Mrs. Godfrey, down the street cooked-up for him. The pity of it all.
And now, to top it all, there was this god-forsaken blizzard.
All Bobby wanted to do at this moment was curl up in his bed under at least a dozen blankets and snore. He wouldn’t be able to do that though, unless by some miracle, he finished reading half a dozen books he’d siphoned of the local library earlier that day and find whatever god forsaken weapon was powerful enough to fight a gorgon.
The wind whistled past the trees, making the skinny branches rattle across the window panes in a musical harmony. In spite of himself, Bobby looked up. Karen had always loved snow, she had been mad about snow to be precise.
This used to be the favourite time of the year for her. There would be days when Karen would make half a dozen pies and take them to the local church. The whole town doted on those crumbly delicacies his wife cooked.
t that time, Bobby’s days would be filled with smelling the rich aroma from the fresh baking all across his house. Having silly snow fights with the neighbouring kids and his wife. Passer byes would stop and grin at the crazy lovey-dovey couple.
Bobby blinked, uninvited moisture making his eyes itchy.
He was alone. The sooner he understood it and made his peace with it, the better.
Stubbornly, Bobby ignored the beautiful white snow that had started to pile up in front of his house and fixated his eyes on the crumply, yellow with age pages of a despicable book.
He wasn’t able to read more than a page though, as a distant rumble of what he knew was a 1967 Impala pierced his forced concentration.
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John had intended to drop the kids at Bobby’s and then double back to Redfield for his moustache friendly unsolved monster case. Caleb was gonna meet him there. Now that John was on the sheriff’s radar, he wouldn’t be able to move in and out of the crime scene without any help from another hunter. Things hadn’t gone according to the plan though. This unexpected snow, and the howling wind that was fast building into a full blown blizzard, destroyed any chances John might have had to reach Redfield today, or tomorrow, or even in a week….Damn it!
Caleb would have had to take care of the monster on his own. John felt a chill of fear run through his body. This would be the first Christmas that he would be spending with his kids after Mary’s death. For five years, John had managed to stay away from Dean and Sam on Christmas Eve. Sometimes, he had a very important hunt. Sometimes, he just lied about having to go on one and left the kids with Caleb or Pastor Jim.
Either way, John had been able to avoid his own kids on this day. That was pathetic and John knew that, but John also realized the terrible wreck he turned during this festival of love.
Mary had been big on all winter festivals. The whole cooking/shopping/decorating had her all keyed up with almost childish joy. Memories of her happy and exited demeanour during this time were too tormenting for John. So yeah, he would be a wreck and heaven forbid he be a wreck in front of his kids, especially Dean.
And now, it looked like John would have to do just that.
He scoffed. Fucking stupid, ugly, freezing snow!
The thing was so annoying that John could feel its coldness tickling him in the nose even inside the Impala…. Wait a minute!
“Damm it Sammy! Stop poking my nose!”
ammy shrank back to his seat, a small, extra-fluffy squirrel stuffed toy held tightly in his hand.
In the back seat, Dean burst out laughing.
“Sowy daddy. I thought Mr cu’wbles w’ll make you feel good. Y’ur nose is red daddy.”
John looked at the kid exasperated. Sammy had been poking things at John ever since they had started this journey and now when John had finally put the kid in his place, the little brat looked as if John had sprouted a dolphin’s body instead of a human’s and smacked his bottom with it... Kids!!
John sighed.
“It’s okay Sammy. Just stop with the poking. Your old man won’t be able to take any more of the tickling and your fingers would be filled with Daddy’s boogers. Do you want that?”
Sammy stared at his father horrified.
“No daddy I don’t w’nt your boogers. Mr cu’wbles won’t try to help you again.”
“Thank you Sammy. Dean you stop showing your teeth or I promise you’ll end up counting them in your hand.”
Dean dissolved into another set of uncontrolled giggles.
John scowled.
This journey was turning out to be more tormenting then what he had bargained for. When he finally saw Singer Salvage come into view, John heaved a sigh of relief.
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Bobby’s heart missed a heartbeat. John never came unannounced and if he was here now, something was definitely wrong.
Hastily removing his winter coat from a rusted hoop over the key stand, Bobby moved out into the snow. As he saw the black vintage car rolling in his yard, the feeling of dread worsened. He hoped John wasn’t that badly injured, he hoped the kids were fine. Oh god what if Sam.. or Dean??
ne of the car’s side doors opened, and an over exited bundle of clothes tumbled towards his direction at a fast speed.
“Unca bowy!!”
am came running towards his favourite uncle and wrapped himself around his leg. Bobby finally let out relieved laughter and picked up the over excited kid.
“What are you idjits doing here?”
“Daddy’s nose is red Unca Bowy! It’s itc’y. Mr cu’wbles tried to help but daddy would have covered him with boogers, so I st’pped him.”
“You are not making much sense kiddo.”
Sammy launched into a more elaborate explanation, that included some story about an ice-cream stick, Mr Cu’wbles and Daddy’s big nose hair. Bobby had been better not knowing.
Turning his attention back to the car, he observed the other two Winchesters lumbering towards the house. Both of them were supporting backpacks that contained all of their meagre stuff.
Both looked fine. Bobby heaved a sigh of relief. No one was injured, at least.
Bobby couldn’t be sure, but Dean seemed to be shaking with laughter. Once in a while he would look at his father and dissolve into more laughter. John looked at the kid exasperated and punched him playfully. John was also keeping his hand over his mouth.
Bobby was very confused.
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Bobby had never laughed so much in his life. But when he saw a half stuck fake moustache sticking on John’s face, he hadn’t been able to keep a stoic face. Now, almost an hour later, Bobby and Dean were sitting in the living room still laughing their heads off while John treated his allergy in the bathroom and shouted profanities at the two of them.
Sammy just looked confused.
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Dean looked around the small guest room. He and Sammy had always stayed in this room whenever they came over to Bobby’s. This room felt more like home than any crappy motel ever could.
lso Dean was really happy today. Dad was here. It was almost Christmas and Dad was still here. Dean didn’t understood why Dad always left him alone with Sammy around this time; it always saddened him to the core. He could no longer celebrate Christmas with his mommy, but every year he wished he would get to see his dad on the day. That wasn’t too much to ask, now was it?
Sometimes they stayed with Pastor Jim at the church. Those stays would be filled with Christmas lights and candies and carols and cakes and pie. There were so many good old ladies that brought home cooked pies and stuff to the church. Dean never liked their musty smell, but the pies and things were awesome.
Other times, they were in crappy motels in some unknown county, all alone. Those were the most terrible of the days. Dean tried his best to give Sammy a good Christmas, even though Sammy was still too small to understand what Christmas actually was. The only thing Sammy was ever concerned with was candies and bright, colorful lights draped over a plant.
Sometimes, Dean would sneak into houses down the street and sneak out the stuff he needed for Sam. Sometimes, he would have enough money to buy the stuff on his own. Nevertheless, Dean had never let Sam’s Christmas go uncelebrated.
But this time it was gonna be epic. This time, Dad was here and Bobby was here too.
A big smile tugged on Dean’s lips as he finally dozed off, his one hand hugging his baby brother protectively.
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Sammy was an early riser. Oh yes he was!
He loved being up before his big brother and before his daddy. More than that, he loved jumping on the two of them when they were sleeping. It was Sammy’s favorite pastime.
After drinking water from the glass on the nightstand (well, after trying to drink water and managing to spill half of it on his sweater) Sammy padded to his brother’s side and plonked himself on his arm.
Dean was fast though (he always was!! Stupid Dee!!) . He caught Sam in half-a-hug before the kid even managed to touch his big brother. Then both brothers sort of wrestled on the bed, laughing all the time.
“Sammy you are never gonna get me.”
“Someday I’m g’nna get you Dee!!”
“Fat chance”
Dean ruffled his brother’s hair. Then he moved to his duffel bag and fished out a new sweater for Sam and a pair of socks. It was Sammy’s old habit; the first thing he did every morning was to try and drink water from the night stand and always ended up pouring half of it over himself. Dean had tried and tried to teach Sammy to drink it properly, and not wet himself in the process. It was no good though, so lately, Dean had just given up.
He moved back to their bed and made Sammy remove the old sweater and wear this new one. Sam’s messy hair stood up on all ends as he changed clothes. Dean stifled a giggle. Sam had funny hair!
Once Sam was dry again, Dean picked-up his brother and walked towards the window ledge. There was a small rug placed on the cold marble and it had just enough space to fit both the little Winchesters. Both Sammy and Dean sat on the ledge covered by a warm comforter and looked outside the window.
The world was washed in white. The trees and the random houses on the street were caked with snow.
The sight was breathtakingly beautiful. Sam cooed in delight as he saw Mother Nature’s magic. They would be spending the afternoon building snowmen and having a snowball fight.
Sammy playfully tapped the window a number of times, as if the kid would actually be able to break the window with his magic fists and go out into the magic land. Dean smiled. He had done that gesture too many times.
He could remember his last Christmas with his mother only too well.
For a long time, thinking about his mother had been a painful task. After the fire, Dean had shut himself away from the entire world. He didn’t speak much, not even to his daddy. The only times he did speak was at night, when the darkness brought back to him the images of a raging fire engulfing his mother.
Those were the only times when he would beg his daddy to take him to mommy. Daddy never did. After some time Dean stopped asking that too.
He didn’t know what dying meant, but he knew it meant his mommy wouldn’t ever be back. Dean had cried the whole night when this realization had finally hit.
Years later, the pain had resided a bit. Dean still missed Mommy a lot, but her memories no longer made him want to cry. So, there were times (when he wasn’t busy worrying about his dad), when he was able to remember the good old times with mom and managed to smile.
Today was one of those days.
For some unexplainable reason, Dean felt very good today. It may have been because his dad was still here. Actually, it was because Dad was still here.
Grinning like an idiot, Dean remembered the white ointment smeared above dad’s lips last night.
Mom would have liked that sight. Mom would have totally clicked dad’s pic and framed it! Mom would have never let Dad live this one down. Mom would have been awesome. Dean laughed.
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John grimaced as he looked at his face in the bathroom mirror. The allergy was still tormenting him. Even after he dubbed that foul smelling cream all over his face last night on Bobby’s insistence, the skin above his lips and all around his fucking nose was a raw red. Dean wouldn’t stop sniggering like an idiot all day and heaven forbid if he had to endure one more poke from his youngest……
Wait that came out all wrong.
Shaking his head at his bizarre luck, John moved out of the bathroom and upstairs. He reckoned that it was better if he went up and checked on the boys.
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“Dee, what are sn’w angels?.”
“Sammy, they the things mom taught me to make. We would go out and lie on the snow. It was very cold, by the way. I would be covered from head to toe in mufflers and sweaters and a bunch of other things. Then we would wriggle our arms and make angels. Dad used to click pictures of it.”
“I wanna see those pictures Dee!”
“I… we don’t have them any longer Sammy. Sorry. Don’t worry I will make it up to you in noon, when we will both go out and make so many snow angels. We could even ask Uncle Bobby for some spare metal things and make sleds.”
“Yes! Dee.”
“Tell what else you did with Mommy, Dee. I wan’a kn’w.”
Dean looked at his little brother, unsure of what to say. He never had talked about his mom much and now that he had finally started too, there were so many things to say. He couldn’t decide where to start.
“Dee?”
“Ok, Sammy, I will tell you about the Christmas Mommy told me about you.”
Sammy gave a big smile.
“It was six years ago and there was so much snow. Like always, me and Mom and Dad went out shopping. Dad bought lights and a biggggg pine tree. Mom bought stockings for me and stuff she used for cooking. But, this time, she bought a lot more stuff then she usually did. That year we bought new Christmas tree decorations too. Dad said, we weren’t gonna use last year’s. Daddy said it was a special year.”
“Why w’z it special Dee?”
“Because you were going to come.”
“Mom used to knit a pair of stockings for me every year Sammy, I used to hang those on the ledge behind our Christmas tree. But this year Mom made more than a pair. The second pair was small. I mean really small and I was confused coz it wouldn’t have fit me. It surely wouldn’t have fit Daddy!”
Sammy giggled.
“So, I asked Mom whom was it for? She said it was for my little brother or sister. She said I was going to have a sibling next year; I should hang these stockings on the ledge for my brother or sister and wish something for him or her.”
“What did you wish for Dee?”
Dean looked out of the window embarrassed. The thing he had actually wished for was a sibling as awesome as a pie.
“Tell me Dee. What did you wish for me?”
“I wished for a sister, Sammy, and then I got you. My little Samantha!!”
“DEE!! I am not a girl!”
Dean laughed at the way his brother puffed out his chest. Silly thing, so easy to wind up.
Ruffling Sammy’s hair, Dean returned to the story.
“So, I tied mine and your socks up on the ledge and then on a small table near the tree, Mom helped me put the chocolate cookies and the pumpkin pie out for Santa.”
Sammy looked confused.
“Why did you put cookies out for Santa, Dean?”
With a pang, Dean realised Sammy had never been aware of this custom about putting out food. Normally, cookies and milk for Santa was a thank you gesture for the gifts.
“Oh, it’s something we did Sammy. Mommy made this yummy pie. She made all kinds of yummy pies. There was pumpkin pie for Thanksgiving and an apple one for Christmas and a peach cobbler for New Year’s. You should have seen it, Sammy. They were so tasty. Mom said that we should share the pie with Santa too, since the guy worked all night to give gifts to all the kids in the world, we should make sure the guy got nice grub to eat on his way.”
“Mommy was very nice, Dee”
“Yup, she was Sammy! Did you know, that I used to help her make those pies? Mommy and me would spend a whole day in kitchen, making pies for neighbours and church and Santa and us! I used to put fruit in the pan when she cooked it a little bit before putting it on the crust. That year we made a special pie Sammy. It was a pie for you”
“For me Dee?”
“Yup baby brother. Mommy and me made these smilies on it. Dad stood at the kitchen door and laughed. He said that Mom and me were being silly. I said we were not silly. Mom sprayed the icing on Dad. That made Dad look silly.”
Sam giggled.
“Tell me more, Dee. What else u did?”
Dean was silent for a few moments. There had been so many memories of his mother, but most of them were so vague that whenever Dean tried to put them in words, the memories escaped.
Now, he had no idea what else to tell Sammy and he wanted to tell Sammy everything about their mother. Sammy had not been there for the Christmas. He wanted Sam to know everything about that Christmas.
“There was one more thing, Sammy. Mom and me made a Christmas ornament too that year.”
“What’s an ormame’nt Dee??”
“It a type of tree decoration, Sammy. It was the one you put at the top. It’s the most important piece. Mom and me made it out of cardboard and loads of coloured paper. It was an angel, Sammy. Mom said that angel was gonna look after us, me and you.”
“Really, Dee?”
“Yup. Do you want to see that ornament, Sammy?”
Sam’s eyes widened in excitement.
“I want to, Dee!!”
“Okay, then wait here. Lemme get it for you.”
Dean went back for his duffel and pulled something wrapped in an old newspaper out of one of the many pockets. He removed the crumpled newspaper and brought the little arts and crafts project he and his mother had made a very long time ago to Sammy.
Sam was literally bouncing up and down with excitement. When he finally held the oddly cut and haphazardly painted (in a multitude of bizarre colors) cardboard angel in his hands, Sam shrieked with glee.
“You were not a very good painter, Dee!”
“Tell me about it.”
“Can I keep this, Dee?”
“Of course you can.”
“Can we make some this year too, Dee?”
“Sure. You know Sammy? Daddy is here. He will help us. He knows all about Christmas and the stuff Mom used to do.”
“Really, Dee?”
“Yes, Sammy. Now stop jumping, you are gonna fall on your butt.”
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John looked at his boys from behind the door as a sad, but heartfelt smile tugged at his lips. Today, Dean not only made his little brother live in a moment he could never be a part of, but he’d also made John realise how Mary’s memories were not something to run from, they were to be cherished.
Looking out of the window at the lazily falling snow, John whispered:
“Merry Christmas, Mary. I miss you, but you know, this year mine, Dean and Sam’s ornament is gonna be much better than yours.”
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