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sammydevans · 5 years ago

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WHO: Sam & Kitty @doveportkitty

WHEN&WHERE: January 29, evening at Kitty’s place

WHAT: A conversation to end #babygate2020

WARNINGS: mentions of sexual abuse

Sam was nervous. If he were honest, he felt that way a lot when it came to real relationship conversations with Kitty. He was used to her being slightly distant to feelings and often times more interested in the physical aspect of their relationship, and he was okay with it, truly. It was a system that worked. But when it came down to moments like this, it left him wondering how they would end. No time like the present to find out, right? With a bottle of champagne in one hand, he knocked at her front door, a soft smile on his lips when she answered. "Hey you."

Knowing the conversation that was coming, Kitty couldn’t sit down. Not one to clean usually, she actually found herself tidying up — mostly putting away the empty liquor bottles she had used to drown the thoughts of doubt in her head since the topic of children had even been brought up. Children weren’t in her future. They couldn’t be. She knew her flaws, and being a mother would be one of them. The familiar knock breaks her “cleaning” concentration, and after quickly washing her hands she moves to the door to open it for her boyfriend. “Hey, hot shot.” She said not able to stop the soft smile from lighting her lips. “You brought champagne... Now if only you were shirtless.” She teased lightly, leaning in to press her lips against his sweetly before moving out of the way to let him in.

He chuckled at her greeting, not hiding the playful roll his eyes as he entered her house. "I keep tell you," Sam reminded. "It's too cold for shirtless deliveries. Once it's warm again." He passed off the bottle to her and shrugged off his jacket, hanging it on a hook by the door. It was easy to feel the weight of the lingering conversation, but he wanted it to feel normal, natural. "So start with champagne? I could probably use a quick recap on last week."

"I'll hold you to that." Kitty commented with a smirk, happily accepting the champagne from Sam. Moving through her apartment to the kitchen, she pulled down two glasses from the cabinet, popping the cork and carefully pouring the alcohol into them before passing one to Sam. "Because you weren't paying attention? I swear to God, Samuel, If that's the case I'm totally going to start quizzing you on episodes the day after." She leans against the kitchen, and brings the champagne to her lips, taking a sip and immediately wants more. It felt normal now, but even Kitty knew that the weight of the impending conversation was going wear them down. "Or I can just send you my twitter feed, I guess."

He took the glass in one hand, going to take a sip before quickly pausing to protest. “No, no. Totally paid attention, day after I would have aced a quiz,” Sam insisted. It was true enough anyway. He was obviously nowhere near as invested as she was, but she wanted him to watch with her, so he did. “It’s just been a long week. Peter wasn’t exactly the biggest thing in my mind.”

Kitty froze at the comment of the long week. The two worked at the same place, they worked in the same area even, so she knew instantly why Peter wasn’t at the forefront of Sam’s mind. And it wasn’t because of work. Still holding the champagne in her hand she reaches at Sam’s shirt with her free hand and pulls him in against her. “I’ll let it slide.” She mutters in a whisper before capturing his lips with hers, letting her lips familiarize themselves with his after the few days they’d spent apart. A few days she would allow herself to admit sucked. “Do you want to like, go to the couch?” Kitty asks gingerly. Nervously (a feeling she was not at all used to). “The umm... episode it ready to go.”

Sam slid his arm around her as he kissed her back, holding her close and knowing he didn’t want to let go. Getting lost in this seemed like a much better idea than reality tv. Better than a heavy conversation that could easily end unhappily. At her question, he nodded, pulled back and took her hand to lead the way over. Sam took his normal spot against the end of the couch, an arm open for Kitty to cuddle into his side. “So I saw something about Cleveland?” he asked, trying to keep his focus on the episode at hand. “Which... why anyone would choose that destination is beyond me.”

Kitty doesn’t hesitate to slide herself in next to Sam. She couldn’t predict how the night would end (which was infuriating because kitty liked to pride herself on knowing everything) but right now she was content with being close to him and judging trashy pageant girls on tv. “You didn’t hear? Cleveland is the new Hawaii.” She comments jokingly, reaching for the remote to press play. Attempting to relax, Kitty keeps her attention on the screen for a while, not really paying attention to the one on one date Peter was currently on... Her twitter feed would be disappointing in the morning. Sighing she paused the show and sits herself up to look into Sam’s blue eyes. “I totally can’t do this... sorry, it’s not in my blood. If we’re going to break up, watching Peter send home a few fame wannabes first isn’t going to make anything better.”

“I can show you a funny YouTube video that will disprove that in thirty seconds,” Sam defended with a chuckle. He sipped at his champagne as the details unfolded, even less interested than the past couple weeks. He’d fail if she gave him a pop quiz on this tomorrow. But did it matter? Trashy reality TV ranked about a thousand spots below their relationship. “Kitty, I don’t want to break up with you,” Sam told her sincerely, taking her hand in his. He needed to feel her with him, to hold her from running away. “This doesn’t have to be over.”

For a second, Kitty wants to pull her hand back. But it was Sam, and she’d always had a hard time letting go of him. “I don’t want to break up either.” She tells him honestly. “But if your future involves kids, like... that can’t be a future we’re in together.” Her heart felt as though it was sinking out of her stomach, and she kind of regrets even commenting on the post that day. It was only real when she made it real. “We’re adults so it’s not like we’re dating for clout, and I mean, I’m not sitting up at night practicing my post-wedding signature or anything, but isn’t it sort of crazy to be in a relationship where we both want entirely different things? I would be... the worst mother, Sammy. You have to know that.”

Sam sat up straighter in his seat, quiet as he let her speak her mind. She was right, mostly, and he hated it. But there was still a part of him that knew them breaking up was the part that wasn't. "There was also a long point in time where I thought my future involved me being a superhero," he defended, trying his best to at least bring some lightness to the conversation. It didn't work, and he knew it as soon as he'd said it. "But... plans change. Yes, I've imagined my life with kids. But that doesn't mean I can't imagine one without them. I just haven't before. I haven't had a reason to before," he explained. He took a deep breath and tapped a finger against Kitty's skin, debating if he should say more before continuing anyway. "But if the reason you don't want kids is because you think you'd be a terrible mother, you need to rethink your reason."

If it was any other conversation with, at any other time, Kitty may have laughed and teased him about wanting to be a superhero growing up. But the weight of their future felt as thought it was on top of her, and she knew herself enough to know if they didn’t talk about this now she’d keep avoiding this until it tore them apart. Sighing, she looks down at their hands, her gaze watching the small movements of her boyfriend’s fingers. “Sam, think about it for longer than a minute. There is not a person out there who sees me as mom material. C’mon I won’t even go and see Madison’s baby and I actually like her... and like, the baby’s not ugly. I mean, it's still blob like, but it's a cute blob? I don’t have it in me, babe. When Jesus blessed me he gave me a lot of things, but if I had a kid? They would end up hating me. Deep down you have to know that.”

"I don't want to sit here and convince you to have a baby someday," Sam admitted. Even if that was, maybe, exactly what he wanted, it seemed unfair to push the idea on her when she seemed so opposed. "But I have thought about it for more than a minute. It's all I've thought about for the past few days. No, you're not traditional mom material. But I know you. And I know you're not the cold-hearted person you let everyone think you are." He took a breath and chewed at his lip for a moment, then continued. "I pictured my life with kids. Little league practices, father-daughter dances, pillow forts and Disney movies, family walks, and matching pajamas on Christmas morning. All that cheesy Hallmark stuff. And in that picture I had a partner, somewhere. I mean, it's been the Black Widow more than once and also Thor one time? But mainly, faceless, nameless. And then there's life I pictured with you. It's specific and real. It's a weekend in Atlanta with a whole town to explore but spending most of it wine drunk and naked in bed. It's Christmases watching new Hallmark movies that the exact same as last year's movies. It's supporting each other through winning seasons at school, and someday maybe something bigger than high school. It's teaching you how to cook something besides waffles because we really can't live on Postmates forever. It's someday finding a place that's ours and me letting you take complete control of decorating." He let out a heavy breath and dropped her hand in favor of reaching to cup her face, thumb brushing over her cheek. "I love you, Kitty Wilde. And I know that's gonna be a lot for you, but I need you to know it. I need you to know how real this is for me. I can lose the fantasy of kids, but I can't lose the reality of you."

Kitty fell silent as she listened to him talk. It was easier than finding her own words right now, when it came to the serious moments she struggled with comprehending them at the best of times. A sharp pang hit her heart when he described the family he’d always imagined having. The little league games, and father daughter dances... If there was anyone that deserved that, it was Sam. Kitty brings her legs up, folding them underneath her in a way shed’d done since childhood. Though at this point, it was mostly to distract her body in someway while he was talking. She can’t help but smile faintly at the mention the life he has pictured with her. It wasn’t as detailed as the one she’d pictured, but she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t pictured a future with him. Maybe that’s why in a situation which normally would have sent her running, she was still here. She lifts her eyes to Sam when he brings his hand to her cheek, her face instinctively leaning into the touch. “You...” Her breath felt like it had been taken out of her, processing what he’d just said. “I...” Those words had never come naturally to her, and she cared about him, she did. A lot. But those words? She couldn’t say them. “I don’t want to lose you.” Kitty murmured simply after what felt like forever. “You make me want to be better... And like, I’m already pretty great so that’s an accomplishment.” She let out a soft sigh before leaning in and pressing her lips against his in a loving kiss. “But we really can live on postmates forever, babe.”

Sam had held his breath after his confession. It could have been a mistake to being love into the conversation. Slow had been the default speed of their emotional relationship, she'd technically only been his girlfriend for a month. He, of course, wanted to hear her say it back. But that was someday, he figured. Today he just wanted her not to pull away, not to kick him out. Voicing that she didn't want to lose him was more than enough for today. "You are pretty great," Sam agreed, barely breaking their kiss. His forehead pressed against hers and chuckled. "Okay fine, I'll cook. Shirtless, just for your entertainment."

“You should just be shirtless all the time.” Kitty muses with a small smile. For the first time in days she doesn’t feel as though there’s a pressure sitting on her heart about their future. Maybe this is why people rave about talking through their feelings all the time. Pressing a kiss to his cheek, she pulled away. Sam loved her... He was willing to give up children for her. The least she could do was be honest with him. She takes a deep breath and diverts her eyes to anywhere but Sam. “I can’t sleep at other people’s houses because I wake up and panic.” She starts to tell him quietly. “It’s been like that since the 7th grade. I was at a church sleep over and...” Kitty paused, swallowing thickly at the memory and willing herself to finally let her boyfriend all the way in. “And when I woke up in the middle of the night, the youth pastor was in my sleeping bag. I didn’t know what to do... I should have panicked, I should have said something? But I didn’t. I was scared... And I trusted him. I told my parents a lot later and I guess he left town. But when I wake in the night now... I still feel his breath, Sam. And when I’m in a place that’s not my own, I just... It’s like I’m back there. I need the television on to sleep... But Sugar has given me this ridiculous sleep sound machine and I don’t know, it kind of works. As embarrassing as it is. I’m trying. For you, I’m trying.” She tells him, glancing up at his familiar face. “I’m not telling you this because I want you to feel sorry for me. God please don’t. But for a long time I haven’t trusted anyone? Not fully. I trust you though, Sam. Like I trust you more than I’ve ever trusted anyone before. I just... I needed you to know that.”

Sam watched her carefully as she pulled away, worried for a brief moment that she'd thought better of the whole thing and was going to run after all. But as she spoke, his worried transformed from worry to him to worry for her. "Kitty, if I'd known I wouldn't have pressed about you staying," he told her, and truthfully, maybe he did feel a little sorry for her in that moment. Not sorry for her, but sorry that she had to go through it, deal with it still. He scooted closer to her then, slowly wrapping an arm around her. "You can do whatever you need to be comfortable, you know that right? I'll put a TV in my room, or we can just always be here?" he felt like he was on the verge of rambling and reeled himself in by pressing a kiss to her temple. "I just want you to feel safe with me."

Kitty could count on one hand the amount of people who knew her full past. At least this part. And honestly, she liked it that way. Having this conversation to everyone she met would have been pure torture. But oddly? She’s not unhappy to have told Sam. It was almost as though there was nothing left to hide... and considering he worked to get to this point for over a year, he deserved to be let in. Kitty shrugged her shoulders, pressing her lips together in a sad smile as his arm wraps around her. “It’s okay. It was a long time ago, and I’m mostly over it. It’s just the whole sleeping thing, I guess... But the fact you don’t have a TV in your room freaks me out in general just FYI. If you weren’t so hot it probably would have been a deal breaker.” She tried to joke to eliminate some of the heaviness of the conversation. “I feel safe when I’m with you, Sammy.” She told him honestly, glancing up meet his eyes. “I feel a lot when I’m with you. Like way too much sometimes and I hate it, but I’ve never been scared of you hurting me, or scared of anything happening to me while you’re around. I promise... I mean, not that I can’t look after myself, but... you know...”

"I wanna look after you," Sam told her sincerely. He knew she didn't need him to. No one was going to cross Kitty Wilde and live to tell the story. But he was happy to stand her corner while she did it. Sam pressed a kiss into her shoulder and then to her cheek before sitting back and encouraging her back into his arms. Just the way the things were before the conversation, the way things should be on Bachelor night. "As for the TV thing, I've literally never had one. My parents didn't want us to have them in our rooms, so it's just never been a thing, you know?" Sam reached for his glass of champagne again and took a sip. "But I really will get one. If you want."

Independence had always come naturally to Kitty. She could look after herself. But having Sam on her side didn’t feel like a bad thing at all. Her eyes fluttered shut as his lips pressed tenderly against her skin, and without over thinking it she moved back to the position in his arms. “I want it.” She replied simply, stealing the champagne glass from his hand to take a sip. “It’s time to move into the 21st century, hot shot. Now pay attention to the Bachelor or you’re going to fail tomorrow’s test.”

#askmepara #doveportkitty #para: all #old character

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foreverwayward · 6 years ago

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“Wayward Hearts” Season 3 Chapter 7: A Very Supernatural Christmas

Summary: After the Devil’s Gate had been opened that fateful night in the graveyard, the hunters are forced to face a new war. Countless demons now run rampant, hungry for blood and power. It’ll take everything the three have to survive when darkness once again knocks on their door. But, with only a year before Dean’s deal comes due, Sam and Riley will stop at nothing to save him; to save their family.

Masterlist

Word Count: 10,866 (yup. this one got long)

Content Warning: language and violence

DISCLAIMER: any words or phrases in bold in the story are not my own and are credited to the writers of Supernatural.

**GIFS ARE NOT MY OWN**

The weather in Ypsilanti, Michigan would never have anyone believe it was late December. There was no chill in the air, no snow on the ground.

A little girl with blonde hair stood motionless and sad at the window as Riley and Dean spoke with her mother on the front porch. The woman had almost identical hair to her daughter and her face was worn and tired. Her husband had disappeared without a trace only days before Christmas. The family had their home fully decorated for the season. Poinsettias, a large nutcracker, wreaths, and lights lined the porch.

Through the open door, the hunters could see a large tree in the foyer of the home that twinkled as though everything was as it should be.

Posing as FBI agents, Riley and Dean questioned the mother to find out all they could about the missing man.

“So, what exactly happened, Mrs. Walsh?” Riley asked.

“Um, my daughter and I were in our beds. Mike was downstairs decorating the tree. I heard a thump on the roof and then I--I heard Mike scream.” The worried wife stared down at the ground in disbelief as tears welled in her eyes. “And now I’m talking to the FBI.”

Taking notes of the interview, Dean still took part in the questioning. “And you didn't see any of it?”

“No, he was--he was just gone. The doors were locked and my parents are the only ones with a key to the house, but they live in Florida.”

Riley could feel the woman’s agonizing concern and lost herself in her sad eyes as her empathic abilities sucked her in.

Dean scanned around the porch once more. “And no sign of forced entry?”

“That’s right.”

With his hands in his slacks, Sam walked out of the house and half-smiled at the victim’s wife. “Thanks for letting me have a look around, Mrs. Walsh. I think we, uh--got just about everything we need. We’re all set.”

“We’ll be in touch,” Dean added. After noticing Riley, he cleared his throat to snap her out of her trance-like state.

Immediately, it was as if she was grounded back into her body and Riley tried to compose herself. The three turned to walk down the steps with a quick nod to Mrs. Walsh.

“Agents…” the woman called out and the hunters stopped to turn back toward her. “The police said my husband might have been kidnapped. But, if that’s true, why haven’t the kidnappers called? Or--or demanded a ransom? It’s three days ‘til Christmas. What am I supposed to tell our daughter?”

Still reeling from her connection to Mrs. Walsh, Riley bit her lip trying to control her emotions. “We’re so sorry.” Moving on with the Winchesters, they all resumed their walk to the car as the woman turned to go back inside. Riley sighed heavily before saying, “Sam, please tell me you found something.”

“Stocking, mistletoe...this...” Sam replied as he pulled something out of his pocket to give to Dean.

It was a human tooth. “A tooth? Where was this?” Dean examined it more closely as Riley released her hair from its bun trying not to let it all get the best of her.

“In the chimney.”

“Chimney? No way a man fits up a chimney. It’s too narrow.”

Riley took a deep breath as a horrible thought crossed her mind and she shared it with the boys. “Not in one piece at least.”

“Alright, so, if dad went up the chimney--”

“We need to find out what dragged him up there,” Sam said finishing his brother’s sentence.

------

In their motel room, Sam sat at his computer researching while Riley pinned their printed pictures, lore, local history and more up on the walls. The wallpaper was a dark beige with ivy plants covering it, so she was happy to cover some of it up.

Dean walked into the room carrying a brown paper bag. “So, was I right? Is it the serial-killing chimney sweep?”

“Oh, yeah,” Riley replied sarcastically. “We’re looking for Dick Van Dyke.”

As he put down the bag, Dean looked back at her in confusion. “Who?”

Sam smiled at his question and tried to help him. “...Mary Poppins?”

“Who’s that?”

Riley and Sam shared a look of humor before the Winchester chuckled. “Oh come on--never mind,” he said giving up on the pointless conversation with a wave of his hand.

“Sam, remind me to make this guy watch a Disney movie at some point,” Riley teased as she pinned up pictures of what looked like different types of demons.

Ignoring their encounter, Dean went back on topic as he went to greet Riley with a quick kiss. “Well, it turns out that Walsh is the second guy in town grabbed out of his house this month.”

“Another guy got pulled up his chimney?”

“Don’t know. Witnesses said they heard a thump on the roof.” Dean took off his jacket and shrugged before Sam and Riley gestured the same in response. “So, what the hell do you think we're dealing with?”

“Actually, Rye and I have an idea.”

“Yeah?”

Finally finishing her task, Riley joined Sam at the table and smirked at Dean. “You’re gonna think it’s crazy.”

“What could you possibly say that sounds crazy to me?”

Sam and Riley both chuckled before the Winchester smiled up at his brother. “Um...evil Santa.”

Dean paused and then nodded in agreeance. “Yeah, that’s crazy.”

“Yeah…I mean, I’m just saying that there’s some version of the anti-Claus in every culture.” Sam pointed to some of their findings on the table and Dean took them to get a closer look. “You got Belsnickel, Krampus, Black Peter. Whatever you want to call it, there’s all sorts of lore.”

“Saying what?”

“Well,” Riley started as she looked down at her notes. “Some of it says that back in the day, Santa had a brother--that he went dark-side though and he also shows up around Christmas time. But, this guy didn’t bring you goodies, he punished you for being on the naughty list basically.”

“By hauling their ass up chimneys?”

“That’s just some of it, but yeah.”

“So, this is your theory, huh? Santa’s shady brother? I mean, Santa doesn’t have a brother. There is no Santa.”

Sam scoffed before replying, “yeah, I know. You’re the one who told me that in the first place, remember?” He looked at Dean who glanced down almost looking like he felt guilty. “Yeah, you know what, we could be wrong. I mean,” Sam sighed as he shut his laptop. “We gotta be wrong.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” When his partners looked at him quizzically, Dean grabbed some papers with his own findings. “I did a little digging. Turns out both victims visited the same place before they got snatched.”

“Where?”

------

A beat-up sign reading, ‘Welcome to Santa’s Village’ hung over the entryway of a large lot. Inside, Christmas music played as employees wandered around in cheesy costumes of elves, reindeer, and snowmen. Cheap lights hung from a red building labeled, ‘Elves Station’ and evergreen trees were being sold toward the back.

Children were running around playing as if the cheap lot was a magical Winter Wonderland.

The three walked in and they all glanced in different directions before Dean said, “You know, all this Christmas talk? I think we should have one.”

“Have one what?” Sam asked.

“A Christmas.”

With a surprised look, Riley replied, “really? I mean, we haven’t done one before.”

“No, thanks,” the younger brother scoffed through a chuckle.

“No, we’ll get a tree, a little Boston market, just like when we were little, Sammy. But, this time…” Dean said with a smile before putting an arm around Riley, “it’ll be the three of us.”

“Dean, those weren’t exactly Hallmark memories for me, you know.”

“What are you talking about? We had some great Christmases.”

Sam’s face fell as he grew slightly more serious. “Whose childhood are you talking about?”

All of a sudden, Riley felt Sam’s energy change. There was a sadness in him that felt old and like it had always been ingrained in him. She tried to focus on him, hoping she could understand.

Stopping mid-walk, Dean turned to his little brother. “Oh, come on, Sam.”

“No! Just…no.”

Dean looked surprised and somewhat shocked as he turned with Riley to keep going. “Alright, ya fuckin’ Grinch.”

As they both walked away, Sam stood still. His attention went to a small, almost cartoon-like, reindeer statue and he looked uncomfortable.

Riley glanced over her shoulder to watch her brother with curiosity.

------

Broken Bow, Nebraska

Christmas Eve, 1991

On a thick television set, in a worn motel room, reindeers pulled Santa’s sleigh across the sky. It was the movie ‘A Year Without Santa Clause’.

The walls were cracked, left uncared for for years with filthy carpet to match. It smelt of mothballs and the takeout the boys had gotten since John left.

An eight-year-old Sam sat on the floor in front of the set, wrapping a gift in newspaper. Dean, no more than twelve-years-old, stood looking out the front window watching the snow fall.

The older brother noticed Sam and turned to ask, “what is that?”

“A present for Dad.”

Dean scoffed. “Yeah, right. Where’d you get the money? Steal it?”

“No. Uncle Bobby gave it to me to give to him--said it was real special.” As Sam continued to wrap his gift, Dean sat next to him on the couch and began to read a magazine. The little Winchester looked up with a face of worry. “Dad’s gonna be here, right? It’s Christmas.”

“He knows and he’ll be here. Promise.”

“Where is he anyway?” As young children do, Sam had so many questions. And with John gone, the only one to answer them was his big brother, Dean.

Dean hated when Sam got curious about their lives. Not because he found it annoying as much as he was running out of lies to tell him. “On business.”

“What kind of business?”

“You know that,” Dean replied with a worried look as he fumbled through the car magazine in his hands. “He sells stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“Stuff.”

“Nobody ever tells me anything,” Sam said sadly.

Rolling his eyes, Dean stood with a huff and walked back towards his bed. “Then quit asking.”

The bed was covered in garbage and food-wrappers and Dean shoved it off to make room for himself. He sat down and continued to browse the publication.

Sam kneeled on the couch to lean on the back of it and looked at his brother. “Is Dad a spy?”

“Mm-hmm,” Dean snarked. “He’s James Bond.”

“Why do we move around so much?”

It was around that time that Dean was beginning to get frustrated with the barrage of questions. “’Cause everywhere we go, they get sick of your face.”

“I’m old enough, Dean. You can tell me the truth.”

Dean looked up to meet Sam’s gaze. ”You don’t wanna know the truth. Believe me.”

“Is that why we never talk about…Mom?” Sam asked meekly.

Dean immediately tossed the magazine away in anger and stood up before yelling. “Shut up! Don’t you ever talk about Mom, ever!” Grabbing his jacket, he went for the door.

Little Sam was scared to be alone and cried out, “wait, where are you going?”

“Out.” Slamming the door behind him, Dean disappeared into the snowy night.

Sam sat in silence with a look of brokenness in his eyes, Alone and confused, the young Winchester peered back at the holiday special on TV. He wondered if there would ever be a year that he could have a real Christmas like the other kids; one where he felt the magic of the holidays and not the loneliness of a dusty motel room.

-----

The memory had taken Sam back to a time he had long wished to forget. His childhood was painful, and it made him resentful of the holidays. Maybe, had John been around, things would have been different. Or maybe the drinking would have only made it worse. In the end, Sam realized it didn’t matter which way things had gone; he and Dean would always end up right where they were.

Dean had already looked around with Riley and they had made it back to where they had left Sam. “You’d think with the ten fuckin’ bucks it costs to get into this place, Santa could scrounge up a little snow.”

“Wait,” Riley interjected. “We spent thirty bucks to get into the saddest North Pole ever? What a ripoff.”

Sam pulled himself from his memories without hearing either of them. “What?”

Those feelings Riley was picking up on earlier were still there if not stronger. Her brother was hurting and she knew it, but there was no way he’d tell Dean. So, Riley reached out for Sam to whisper into his thoughts. “What’s going on, Sam? You okay?”

As he heard her voice in his mind, his eyes went for hers. “Yeah...I’m good.” His tone was sad and flat, only she decided not to push with Dean around.

“So, what are we looking for, again?” Dean asked, not knowing of their private conversation.

“Um…” Sam looked around the lot and tried to forget it all. “Lore says that the anti-Claus will walk with a limp and smell like sweets.”

“Great. So, we’re looking for a pimp Santa. Why the sweets?”

Riley gave Dean a knowing look. “Well, if you smell like candy, the kids will come flocking, ya know?”

“That’s creepy.” Dean’s comment brought out a chuckle from his partners. “How does this thing know who’s been naughty and who’s been nice?”

“No clue.”

The family had continued on only to see a man wearing a Santa costume sitting outside a small barn. It was poorly decorated to appear as if it belonged in the North Pole with nearly no children in line to meet Santa.

Sitting on a red chair, was ‘Santa’. His voice was gruff and he didn’t even wear the beard properly as it hung beneath his chin.

There was nothing about him that didn’t make the hunters feel uncomfortable and their faces showed it. Sam, Riley, and Dean watched as a little boy sat on Santa’s lap.

“You been a good boy this year? ‘Cause Santa’s got a special gift for you,” the man cackled creepily, causing the boy’s mom to grab his arm and pull him away from the disgusting Santa.

Riley scrunched her face feeling the discomfort in the air. “Ugh. Please don’t tell me that Pervy Santa isn’t our guy.”

An adorable young woman with brunette hair and dressed as an elf went to the hunters with a smile on her face. “Welcome to Santa’s court. Can I escort your child to Santa?”

“Uh…” Sam uttered awkwardly.

“No. No. Uh--but actually my brother here…” Dean smiled as he put his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “...it's been a lifelong dream of his.”

Riley could suddenly hear the girl’s thoughts and they made her chortle through her nose.

“What is wrong with this freak?” Finally speaking out loud, the elf turned to Sam with an uneasy look. “Uh--sorry. No kids over...uh--twelve.”

“No, he’s just kidding,” Sam tried to fix what his brother had done only to make it worse. “We only came here to watch.”

The elf looked at Dean who just shook his head and she hurried away. “Ew.”

Sam groaned to himself before he yelled out to her as she walked away. “I--I didn’t mean that we came here to wa--we--” He glared at Dean who was laughing. “Thanks a lot, Dean. Thanks for that.”

“Really, Sam…” Riley teased. “They’re children.”

Dean high-fived her at her joke and Sam just rolled his eyes.

When she looked back up at the Santa, he was leaving his chair, walking with a bad limp. “Uh--you guys seeing this?”

The man slowly passed the hunters, their eyes never leaving him.

“A lot of people walk with limps, right?” Sam shrugged.

“Tell me you didn’t smell that. That was candy, man.”

Wafting the smell away from her face, Riley shook her head with a look of disgust. “Ugh. More like cherry schnapps...or Ripple.”

Dean chuckled as he replied, “well, you might be right. But we willing to take that chance?”

------

That night, inside the Impala, Riley and the Winchesters sat in front of a trailer near the woods. There was a small string of colored Christmas lights lining the roof with a fir tree directly next to the old car parked out front.

Leaning on the driver’s door, Dean yawned through his words. “What time is it?”

“Same as the last time you asked. Here…” Sam reached from the backseat to hand Dean a thermos. “Caffeinate.”

Dean took the canister from him and tried to pour coffee into his cup. The thermos was completely empty and the older brother groaned. “Wonderful.”

As she too yawned, Riley had been staring at the man’s house. Without looking away she asked, “kinda reminds you of the van you were told to stay away from as a kid, huh?”

Both of the Winchesters laughed before silence fell over the car.

Dean smiled and scoffed as he shifted to face Sam. “Hey, Sam. Why are you the boy that hates Christmas?”

“Dean…” Sam groaned under his breath.

“I mean, I admit it. You know, we had a few bumpy holidays when we were kids…”

“Bumpy?”

“That was then. We’ll do it right this year.”

“Look, Dean. If you want to have Christmas, knock yourself out. Just don’t involve me.”

Dean looked at his brother in disbelief before he glanced over to Riley. “Fine. Guess it’ll just me and Rye making the cranberry molds.”

Unsure of why Dean had been so adamant about having Christmas, Riley could only half smile at his offer.

As they returned to watching the house, the filthy Santa from earlier stood in his window. Still in his red cap, but in a dirty and stained white tank top, he looked outside before closing his curtains.

“What’s up with Saint Nicotine?” Dean asked.

The sound of a woman shouting came from inside the trailer and the three jumped out of the car. Running toward the house, they drew their guns and readied themselves at the door.

Sam let out a breathy chuckle making Dean turn to him. “What?”

“Nothing,” the young Winchester answered. “It’s just that, uh--well, you know, Mr. Gung Ho Christmas might have to blow away Santa.”

Dean gave his brother an annoyed look while Riley tried to hide the smirk crawling up her face.

Quickly opening the door, they all went inside but stopped in their tracks as they looked around. Santa was sitting on the couch, holding a giant bong and a bottle of whiskey. He stood and the hunters quickly hid their guns.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” the Santa slurred in his drunken stupor.

Their eyes all went to the old TV set that was playing a cheap Christmas porno.

“Why don’t you mistle my toe? Roast my chestnut--egg my nog…”

Trying to control their urge to laugh, Sam just shrugged at the man without an answer to his question.

Riley suddenly had an idea and began to sing. “Silent night, holy night…” She nudged the boys who began to sing terribly along. Neither knew the words and were completely tone deaf.

“All is well…all is dry. Round and round…” Sam and Dean tried to sing along and stumbled as they failed to match Riley’s lyrics. “...the table.”

Though they sounded like a train wreck, Santa sat down to watch them and grinned with amusement.

Riley’s hands both reached for the brothers’ jackets as she tugged them towards the door with a smile on her face. She kept singing as Sam and Dean stumbled out with her.

------

After another man had been taken from his home, the hunters had gone to the new victim’s house. It too was fully decorated and full of the Christmas spirit aside from the crying wife. Sam, Dean, and Riley were dressed in their suits as they interviewed the woman.

“So, that’s how your son described the attack?” Dean questioned. “Santa took daddy up the chimney?”

The woman had curly dirty-blonde hair with a large bruise over her right eye. “That’s what he says, yes.”

“And where were you?”

“I was asleep and all of a sudden…” she sniffled and her eyes were cast down as they darted back and forth at the memory. “I was being dragged out of bed, screaming.”

Trying not to get sucked into the emotions of yet another grieving wife, Riley focused on her breathing as she had trouble getting her question out. “Mrs.--Mrs. Caldwell, did, uh--did you happen to see your attacker?”

She shook her head and folded her arms. “It was dark and he hit me. He knocked me out.”

Riley swallowed hard, still fighting her empathic abilities. “I’m so sorry.”

“Mrs. Caldwell,” Sam started as he looked above her. “Where--where did you get that wreath above the fireplace?”

Dean and Riley turned to where he had pointed as did Mrs. Caldwell who stood dumbfounded.

“Excuse me?”

The others stared at Sam waiting for an answer but the Winchester just smiled and shrugged, feeling embarrassed. “Just curious, you know.”

After the interview had finished, the three walked through the overly decorated front yard of the home. There were twig shaped reindeer, lit up trees, and angels that glowed.

“Wreaths, huh?” Dean’s eyebrow hooked as he glanced to Sam. “Sure you didn’t want to ask her about her shoes? I saw some nice handbags in the foyer.”

Sam scoffed. “We’ve seen that wreath before, Dean.”

They had reached Baby when Riley stopped and turned to Sam. “You’re right.”

“He is?” Dean asked in surprise.

“Yeah. We saw the exact one at the Walshes’.”

Dean nodded, faking his knowledge of their findings. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, of course. I was just testing you guys.”

------

Riley was at the small kitchenette sink of their motel room making a pot of coffee while Dean went over more lore at the coffee table. Sam walked around the room with his phone to his ear as he wrapped up his call with Bobby.

“Yeah, alright. Well, keep looking, would you? Thanks, Bobby.” Sam hung up with a sigh and went back to the table to sit in front of his laptop. “Well…we’re not dealing with the anti-Claus.”

“Really?” Riley asked as she brought Sam a fresh cup of coffee.

“Thanks,” he said with a smile. “But, uh--yeah. Bobby says we’re fucking morons.” Sam chuckled and the others smirked knowing that was typical Bobby. “He also said that it was probably meadowsweet in those wreaths.”

“Wow. Amazing,” Dean answered flatly and sarcastically. “What the fuck is meadowsweet?”

“It’s pretty rare and it’s probably the most powerful plant in pagan lore.”

Dean tilted his head up to kiss Riley as she gave him his mug. “So, pagan lore?”

“Yeah. See, they used meadowsweet for human sacrifice. It was kind of like a...chum for their gods. Gods were drawn to it and they’d stop by and snack on whatever was the nearest human.”

As Riley sat next to Dean, she blew to cool her hot beverage. “But with Christmas wreaths? Why?”

“It's not as crazy as it sounds. I mean, pretty much every Christmas tradition is pagan.”

“Christmas is Jesus’s birthday,” Dean rebutted.

With her boots kicked off, Riley sat crisscrossed as she sipped her coffee. She made a sound of disagreement through her drink. “Actually, Jesus was probably born during the fall. The winter solstice festival was co-opted by the Catholics and rebranded as ‘Christmas’. And it’s kind of the whole shebang--the Yule log, the tree, even the fat man’s red suit--all leftovers from pagan worship.”

Sam nodded with an impressed look and Dean appeared slightly taken back. “Sometimes I forget how fuckin’ smart you are. But, come on, what are you gonna tell me next? Easter bunny’s Jewish?” Riley smiled as Dean scooted closer to put his hand on her thigh. “So, Sam, you think we’re gonna dealing with a pagan god?”

“Yeah,” Sam replied. “Probably Hold Nickar, god of the winter solstice.”

“And all these Martha Stewart wannabes, buying these fancy wreaths…”

“Yeah, it’s pretty much like putting a neon sign on your front door saying ‘come kill us’.”

Still sipping at her drink, Riley’s brow hooked. “Damn. Not even your Christmas décor is safe.”

The younger brother scrolled through the webpage and scoffed a laugh under his breath. “Huh. When you sacrifice to Hold Nickar, guess what he gives you in return?”

“Lap dances, hopefully,” Dean joked as Riley smiled with a soft chuckle.

“Mild weather.”

Dean looked out the window saying, “like no snow in the middle of December in the middle of Michigan.”

“For instance.”

“Okay, so the question is how to the hell do we kill it?”

“Don’t know. Bobby’s working on that right now. We got to figure out where they’re selling those wreaths.”

Sitting up to look at Sam, Riley asked, “wait, do we think someone’s selling these on purpose? Basically feeding this thing?”

With a heavy exhale Sam shrugged. “Let’s find out.”

------

The bell above the door jingled as Sam, Riley, and Dean walked into a small Christmas shop. ‘Deck the Halls’ was playing and the entire store was covered from wall to wall in decorations. It smelt of wood and cinnamon with hints of pine.

An older gentleman in glasses and white hair stood behind a glass counter. “Can I help you, kids?”

“Uh--hope so,” Dean answered with a grin. “Uh--we were playing Jenga over at the Walshes’ the other night, and, uh--well,” the older brother gestured to Sam. “He hasn’t shut up since about this Christmas wreath, and…” Looking at Sam, he shot him a teasing look. “I don’t know, you tell him.”

Sam’s annoyance with his brother was hard to contain as he replied, “...sure.” He cleared his throat and turned to the shopkeeper before giving him a tight-lipped smile. “...it was yummy.”

“I sell a lot of wreaths, guys.” The man looked at the three while curious and unsure.

“Right, right, but--but you see, this one would have been really special. It had, uh, it had, uh--green leaves, um...white buds on it. It might have been made of, uh…meadowsweet?”

The shopkeeper sighed. “Well, aren’t you a fussy one?”

Sam looked frustrated and embarrassed but Riley and Dean tried to control their laughter before Dean told the shopkeeper, “oh, he is…”

As he laughed, Sam’s eyes sat on his brother with frustration.

“Anyway, I know the one you’re talking about. I’m all out.”

Realizing that Dean was going to make the trip mostly about giving Sam a hard time, Riley butted in. “Isn’t meadowsweet pretty rare? I mean, it’s gotta be expensive. What made you want to make wreaths out of it?”

“Well, I didn't make them.”

“Oh, uh--who did?”

“Madge Carrigan--a local lady. She said the wreaths were so special, she gave them to me for free.”

“Wait...she didn’t charge you for them?”

“Nope.”

Riley looked at the man with skepticism. “So...you gave them away?”

“Hell no,” the shopkeeper scoffed. “It’s Christmas. People pay a butt-load for this crap.”

With a smile and a nod, Dean added, “that’s the spirit.”

------

Dean flicked on the light of their room as the three walked back inside. “How much do you think a meadowsweet wreath would cost?”

“A couple hundred dollars, at least,” Sam answered.

The family all took off their jackets to put them on the couch before going to sit on their beds.

Riley leaned down and began to unlace her boots. “This lady is just handing out expensive wreaths like that? I mean, definitely sounds suspicious.”

With another happy memory hitting Dean, he smiled and turned to Sam. “Remember that wreath Dad brought home that one year?”

Sam’s brow scrunched not understanding Dean’s joy in the recollection. “You mean the one he stole from, like--a liquor store?”

“Yeah,” he beamed with a smile from ear to ear. “It was a bunch of empty beer cans. That thing was great. I bet if I looked around hard enough, I could probably find one just like it.”

Sighing to himself, Sam shook. “Alright. Dude…what’s going on with you?”

“What?”

“I mean, since when are you Bing Crosby all of a sudden? Why do you want Christmas so bad?”

Riley scooted back to rest against the headboard with her knees bent. “You gonna tell us why you’ve been so against it, Sam? I’ve been feeling it ever since we got on this case. Did things just kinda suck during the holidays when you were a kid?”

“No, that has nothing to do with it.”

Digging even further, Dean questioned, “then what?

“I--I mean, I--I just...I don’t get it. You haven’t talked about Christmas in years.”

Dean paused before shrugging. “Well, yeah. This is my last year.”

Silence fell over the room as Sam and Riley’s hearts sank at the realization.

Riley wondered how she could have not remembered that Dean wouldn’t be around for any more of their Christmases It was then that Riley knew how deeply in denial she was over his time being nearly up. She could feel the tears forming and she cleared her throat before practically jumping off the bed. “I’m gonna go take a shower.”

Before Dean could say anything, Riley hurried off to the bathroom and closed the door behind her. Quickly, she turned on the shower and began to cry. The hunter leaned against the wall before sliding down to the floor. She put her hand over her mouth to stifle her cries and began to sob.

That Christmas would just serve as a reminder that the memories they had already made, would be all they would ever get.

Sam and Dean sat in the quiet, not sure what to say.

That’s when Sam looked up to Dean as he tried to hide the pain he was in. “I know it’s your last, Dean. That’s why I can’t do it.”

“What do you mean?”

The young hunter’s eyes grew red and welled. “I mean I can’t just sit around, drinking eggnog, pretending everything’s okay when I know next Christmas you’ll be dead.” Dean only nodded at what Sam had said. “To be honest, I don’t know if Riley can either. Dean, I--I just can’t.”

Realizing the sadness in Sam’s voice, Dean nodded once again and dropped the subject. With no words left to say, Sam and Dean sat on their beds with their heads hung; Christmas lights twinkling through the window.

------

Christmas Eve 1991

Sam sat on the couch reading a comic book as the snow outside the window continued to fall. He turned to the sound of the door opening as Dean walked inside with a bag of groceries.

“Thought you went out.”

“Yeah, to get you dinner.” Dean tossed his little brother a bag of food. “Don’t forget your vegetables,” he added with a smile as he threw him a bag of Funyuns. Dean took off his jacket and sat down on his bed before opening a soda can.

Determined to be done with the secrets, Sam sat across from Dean. “I know why you keep a gun under your pillow.”

Dean lifted his pillow to make sure his little brother hadn’t taken his pistol to see it unmoved. “No, you don’t. Stay out of my stuff.”

“And I know why we lay salt down everywhere we go.”

“No, you don’t.” Though Dean sounded angry, it was worry. Sam couldn’t know the truth yet, he wasn’t ready to know. “Shut up.”

Sam turned around and grabbed something from underneath his bed. It was a leather book and the Winchester tossed it onto the nightstand between their beds. It was John’s journal.

Standing up, almost in shock that Sam had the book, Dean stared down at his brother. “Where’d you get that? That’s Dad’s! He’s gonna kick your ass for reading that.”

The littlest Winchester met his brother’s gaze without fear. “Are monsters real?”

“What? You’re crazy.”

“Tell me.”

Dean bit his lip in uncertainty and hesitation. He glanced down at the book and then back to Sam. “I swear, if you ever tell Dad I told you any of this, I will end you.”

“Promise.”

As the older brother sat back down, he sighed and rubbed his thighs nervously. “Well, the first thing you have to know is we have the coolest dad in the world. He’s a superhero.”

“He is?” A small smile grew on Sam’s face.

“Yeah. Monsters are real--Dad fights them. He’s fighting them right now.”

“But Dad said the monsters under my bed weren’t real.”

Dean half-laughed at the thought. “That’s ’cause he had already checked under there. But, yeah, they’re real. Almost everything’s real.”

With the innocent eyes of an eight-year-old boy, Sam asked, “...is Santa real?”

Smiling and shaking his head, Dean replied, “no.”

There was a pause as Sam grew sad and his head fell. It was at that moment that Sam’s innocence was gone. Though he didn’t know it, in listening to his brother that night, Sam’s life changed forever. “If monsters are real, then they could get us. They could get me.”

“Dad’s not gonna let them get you.”

“But what if they get him?”

“They aren’t gonna get Dad. Dad’s, like...the best.”

“...I read in Dad’s book that they got Mom.”

Dean exhaled sharply not sure what to say. “It’s complicated, Sam.”

His little brother’s voice broke as his fear and anxiety grew. “If they got Mom, they can get Dad. And if they get Dad, they can get us.”

“It’s not like that.” Dean got up to sit next to Sam on his bed, trying to comfort him as best he could. “Okay? Dad’s fine. We’re fine. Trust me.” Still seeing the fear in his little brother’s eyes, Dean put a hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Sam whispered as he looked away to hide the tears growing in his eyes.

“Hey, Dad’s gonna be here for Christmas. Just like he always is.”

With his lip trembling, Sam refused to face his brother. ashamed of his tears. “I just want to go to sleep, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” Dean’s voice was soft with guilt. He had dreaded the day that he would have to ruin Sam’s childhood and it weighed heavily on him.

Sam laid down on the bed and cried quietly to himself but Dean never left his side. “It’ll all be better when you wake up.”

Trying to be quiet, Sam began to sob.

“You’ll see, Sam. ...promise.”

------

Cheery Christmas music played on the outside of a large white house with decorations everywhere. A lit up snowman, a sleigh, poinsettias, lights, and bells filled the yard and porch.

As the hunters got out of the Impala, they walked up the concrete path to the brick entrance.

“This is where Mrs. Wreath lives, huh? Can’t you just feel the evil pagan vibe?” Dean snarked before using the brass knocker on the door. With every click, jingle bells clanked from the strip of bells hanging from the handle.

A woman most likely in her late 60’s opened the door with a cheerful grin on her face. “Yes?” She was in an old fashioned pink dress with a white cardigan and matching pearls. Her hair was curled and set, pinned from her face.

“Hi,” Riley began with a smile. “We were hoping you were the Madge Carrigan that made all those beautiful meadowsweet wreaths.”

“Why, yes I am.” Madge’s voice was sweet and full of high spirits.

“Oh, great! We actually were all admiring one of your wreaths at the Sylar’s place the other day.”

As Riley continued to sweet talk Mrs. Carrigan, Dean tried to peer into the home.

Inside looked like the Santa himself lived there. There were countless collectibles, adornments of holly, a large gingerbread house on the table, and garland up the staircase. The strong smell of evergreen and freshly baked cookies wafted out the door.

“You were? Well, isn't that meadowsweet just the finest-smelling thing you ever smelled?”

Sam nodded in agreeance. “It is, it sure is. But, the problem is, is that all you wreaths had sold out before we got the chance to buy one.”

“Oh, fudge!”

“You wouldn’t have another one that we could buy from you, would you?” Dean asked.

“Oh, no, I’m afraid those were the only ones I had for this season.”

Riley glanced up at the boys with a look of disappointment. “Oh, darn it,” she feigned.

Mr. Carrigan came down the staircase in a cardigan with an old-fashioned pipe. He stood by his wife and smiled. The two of them looked far too picture-esque as if they had just time traveled from the 1950’s.

“What's going on, honey?” The man’s voice was just as upbeat and cheery as Madge’s.

She turned to him, her smile never falling. “Well, just some nice kids asking about my wreaths, dear.”

“Oh, the wreaths are fine. Fine wreaths. Oh, care for some peanut brittle?” Mr. Carrigan held out a small red tin filled with sweet treats.

As Dean reached out to take some, Riley slapped Dean’s hand away. “Thank you so much, but we’re okay.”

-------

Dean and Riley’s knives worked to sharpen wooden stakes as they sat on the beds. Five other wooden stakes sat at their feet and on the beds beside them.

In front of his laptop, Sam kept researching until he clapped his hands in a moment of excitement at what he found.

“I knew it! Something was way off with those two.”

“I’m assuming that means you found something.” Riley dusted the wood shavings off her pants and onto the carpet below.

“The Carrigans lived in Seattle, last year, where two abductions took place right around Christmas. They moved here in January. All that Christmas shit in their house--that wasn’t boughs of holly. It was vervain and mint.”

She nodded. “Oof. That screams Pagan.”

“Really?” Dean asked. “‘Cause to me it sounds like the beginning of a well-seasoned recipe.”

“I gotta tell you guys, I wasn’t picking up on anything from them. Literally, nothing. That doesn’t usually happen unless we’re talking about something that isn’t human.”

“So, what, Ozzie and Harriet are keeping a pagan god hidden underneath their plastic-covered couch?”

“I don’t know. All I know is we gotta check them out.” Closing his laptop, Sam got up to inspect one of the stakes. “So, what about Bobby? He’s sure evergreen stakes will kill this thing, right?

Blowing off the dust from her last wooden creation, Riley looked at the sharp end of the stake. “Yup. Time to put down Mr. and Mrs. Christmas with a Christmas tree. Huh,” she paused. “That’s a weird sentence.”

------

Outside the Carrigan house once again, that night, the family stood on the front porch as Dean picked the lock. Riley and Sam kept the lookout and took stakes out of the older brother’s bag as ‘O Come All Ye Faithful’ played into the quiet neighborhood from the porch’s speakers.

Once inside, the hunters quietly moved through the house and into the family room. The Carrigan’s large tree sat in front of their main window;=, its lights lit as if waiting for Santa.

Dean pointed to the couch and whispered, “see? Plastic.” He shook his head disapprovingly and the others gave a judgmental look as well as they touched it.

Riley could hear Dean’s thought as Sam walked a little ahead. “Jesus. Can you imagine having sex on this couch?”

Trying not to giggle, Riley replied, “oh, yeah. Think of how much your ass would stick to that thing.”

There were times where Riley being in Dean’s head still took him by surprise. He turned in her direction with a shake of his head as he mouthed, ‘no thank you’.

In the hall, Sam tried to keep his heavy boots quiet. He was surrounded by ornaments and snow globes as he walked into the kitchen. Plates filled with cookies, cakes, and other sweets lined the table.

To his right, Sam saw a door that led out of the kitchen and most likely into the basement. He clicked on his flashlight to point it at the lock to look more closely. It was open.

“Guys…” he whispered.

Slowly, the hunters headed down the stairs, all with their flashlights shining in front of them. As Dean pointed his directly forward, he saw bones covered in blood sitting in a large bowl. Riley and the brothers looked around and realized the entire basement looked like a butchery room rather than a storage space. Blood, bones, and what looked like metal devices to inflict torture were strewn about the floor and countertops.

A pair of bloody Santa boots and the matching bag, smelt of death as they sat on a box in the corner.

Sam had stumbled upon what looked like an electric wood saw with pieces of cut bone left behind. He scrunched his face in disgust with a groan before moving on.

Nearby, Riley found a bag hanging from a hook on the wall. It was bloody and her curiosity drew her in. As she reached out to touch it, she gasped as the bag began to move with muffled cries. Someone was inside struggling to get free.

Riley jumped at the movement and sensed someone behind her. There was Madge. The woman grabbed Riley’s neck and lifted her off the ground. Softly yelping in surprise, Riley clutched at the hand around her throat.

“Riley!” Sam and Dean shouted in unison hearing her cry as they charged in her direction.

Pushing Riley up against a wall, Madge slammed Riley’s head hard into the brick, letting her drop to the ground. The evil woman slinked back into the shadows just as the brothers rushed around the large basement.

Their lights lit up the way ahead of them, showing Riley lying on the ground and not moving.

Before Sam and Dean could reach her, Mr. Carrigan grabbed Sam’s arm and knocked his head against the wall.

Dean turned at the sound, “Sam!”

At that same moment, a large 2x4 was swung at Dean’s head by Mrs. Carrigan.

With all the hunters down on the ground, the couple smiled.

------

The pagan’s kitchen was lit with candles next to several mortar bowls, knives, and hardware tools. Both Sam and Dean were tied to chairs back to back.

Once finally fully alert, but unable to see his siblings, Sam softly called, “Dean...Rye? You okay?”

Dean groaned as he pulled his head up. “I think so. Where’s Riley?”

“Over here…” Riley replied.

The two looked over toward the sound of her voice to see her to a chair as well that sat firmly against the wall.

“You alright, sweetheart?”

“Aside from the pounding headache, yeah.” Her eyes squinted as she looked over to them.

Sam sighed. “So, I guess we’re dealing with Mr. and Mrs. God. Nice to know.”

Dressed in colorful Christmas-themed sweaters, the Carrigans walked into the kitchen practically beaming seeing the hunters awake.

“Speaking of the Yuletide douchebags…”

“Ooh, and here we thought you three lazybones were gonna sleep straight through all the fun stuff.” Madge giggled as she scurried across the floor to get things from the shelf.

Overly sarcastic no matter what the situation, Dean replied, “and miss all this? Nah, we’re partiers”.

“Isn’t he a kick in the pants, honey?” Mr. Carrigan stared down at them as he took a puff from his pipe. “You’re hunters, is what you are.”

“And you’re pagan gods. So, why don't we just call it even, and go our separate ways?”

Mr. Carrigan laughed. “What, so you can bring more hunters and kill us? I don’t think so.”

Frustrated as he pulled against his restraints, Sam tried to look over his shoulder to leer at the couple. “Maybe you should have thought about that before you went snacking on humans, now, huh?”

“Oh now, don’t get all wet.”

Madge unfolded dinner napkins and began placing them in the hunters’ laps. “Oh, why, we used to take over a hundred tributes a year and that’s a fact. Now, what do we take? What, two? Three?”

“Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew here make five.”

“Now, that’s not so bad, is it?”

Riley was still slightly spinning from the blow to the head but managed to keep her usual level of snark. “Wow, well we were just all wrong about you, weren’t we? I mean--you guys are practically Ward and June Cleaver.”

“You, little miss…” Mr. Carrigan said pointing his pipe at the blue-eyed hunter. “You better show us a little respect.”

“Or what? You’ll eat me?”

The husband laughed heartily as he looked back at Riley. “Well, you know, the missus and I have always felt it best to use men for the rituals. That’s just how it’s always been. But you…” Mr. Carrigan walked closer to Riley who had anger in her eyes. “We figured we might make an exception. Because you’re not completely human are you? No, you’re something special--something… what’s the word I’m looking for, dear?” he asked his wife.

Madge grinned as she continued to set up. “Well, she’s practically a rare delicacy isn’t she?”

“A delicacy. Spot on, dear.” Turning back to Riley, he still practically twinkled with joy. “And I’m betting what you would add to the mix would be just top notch, don’t you agree, honey?” He asked to his wife.

“Oh, absolutely. Might give it the extra kick we’ve needed to help us have it like we did in the good old days. We’re such sticklers for rituals though and have to do this right. And you know what kicks off the whole party?”

“Let me guess…” Dean said jumping in. “Meadowsweet.” Madge ran around the kitchen island with a squeal of excitement in response. “Oh shucks, you’re all out of wreaths. I guess we’ll just have to cancel the sacrifice, huh?”

“Oh, don’t be such a gloomy Gus.” She held three horseshoe-shaped wreaths and hung them all around their captives’ necks. “There. Ohh…don’t they just look darling?”

“Good enough to eat.” Mr. Carrigan smacked his lips as he whipped out a knife. “Alrighty-roo. Step number two.” Carrying a bowl and the blade, he walked to Sam. The man held the bowl under the Winchester’s arm and prepared to cut him with the knife.

Dean fought with all his strength to turn to his little brother, but to no avail. “Sammy?! Sammy?!”

“D-Don’t!” Sam’s demand almost sounded like a plea before it slowly turned to a scream as Mr. Carrigan tore into his flesh.

Both Riley and Dean shouted over each other with anger at Sam’s pain.

“Leave him alone, you son of a bitch! I swear to god, I’ll kill you!”

“This might pinch a bit, dear.” Mrs. Carrigan had gone to Riley and the hunter bore her eyes into the god.

“You hurt her and I’ll fucking rip you apart,” Dean growled.

Riley’s teeth gritted together through her scream and she squeezed her eyes shut as the blade cut into her forearm. Only a second later, another cry ripped from her throat as Mrs. Carrigan cut her other arm as well.

Dean’s rage boiled inside him and his chair only slightly moved at the force he fought against it with. His family was being tortured and it was driving him to the brink of insanity.

It was then Dean’s turn to have the blade cut into him and he too released a shout of pain. “You fucking bitch!”

“Oh, my goodness me! Somebody owes a couple of nickels to the swear jar. Oh, do you know what I say when I feel like swearing? ‘Fudge’.”

Panting, Dean snarked, “I’ll try and remember that!” As she smiled at him, the woman brought the knife back down to his other side. “You fudging touch me again and I’ll fudging kill you!”

“Very good!” she exclaimed, cutting into the hunter once more as he groaned in pain.

Mr. Carrigan picked up a pair of pliers and walked back to Sam. “You kids have no idea how lucky you are. There was a time when kids came from miles around, just to be sitting where you are.”

With panic in his voice, Sam’s chest rose and fell rapidly. “What do you think you’re doing with those? No. No. Don’t.”

The man took the pliers to Sam’s index finger and began to pull the nail off as Sam screamed.

In a state of distress, Riley couldn’t block her empathic abilities and began to wail along with him. It felt as though her own fingernail was being torn from her body.

The two gods turned to each other with astonishment and then back at her with Sam’s nail pinched in the pliers.

“Oh, my goodness, me…” Mrs. Carrigan exclaimed. “Darling, I think we’ve found ourselves an empath.”

After putting the nail into the bowl that was drenched in the hunters’ blood, he put down the pliers and clapped with excitement. “Well, hotdog! It’s officially a party!” Mr. Carrigan tapped his head ridiculously remembering something. “Sweet Peter on a popsicle stick…I forgot the tooth.”

Sam, Riley, and Dean were all panting hard trying to overcome their pain.

“Merry Christmas, guys,” Dean uttered as the others groaned.

With the pliers in his hand once again, Carrigan grabbed Dean’s chin. “Open wide… and say, ‘aah’.” Just as he put the tool into Dean’s mouth, the doorbell rang.

“Somebody gonna get that?” Dean asked, his voice muffled with the pliers still in his mouth. “You should get that.”

Mr. Carrigan rolled his eyes and motioned for his wife. “Come on.”

As soon as the couple was out of the room, Dean looked over to Riley. “We gotta get out of here. I don’t wanna be this year’s Christmas turkey.”

“Yeah,” Riley agreed out of breath. “Can we kill them now, please?”

“Oh, yeah…” Sam muttered.

------

Mr. and Mrs. Carrigan came back into the kitchen with smiles on their faces. “Now, where were we?” Madge giggled.

Riley and the Winchesters were no longer in their chairs. The gods saw one of the doors close with a slam and they turned around to see the other door close as well.

Sam and Riley were standing against one as they tried to keep it shut and Dean did the same on his end.

The Carrigans pounded on the door, again and again, fighting the hunters attempt to lock them in.

Dean pulled a large drawer to hold his door closed and ran to help his partners. As soon as Dean was against the banging door, Riley let go and ran across the room only to shove the Christmas tree to the ground. The ornaments crashed on the hardwood and shattered as her hands went into the branches.

“Damn, Rye!” Sam yelled. “I know they were gonna eat us, but what did the tree do?”

She grunted as she yanked a branch off. “Stakes are in the basement. Luckily, we got some fresh evergreen right here.”

Dean grinned and shook his head. “You’re fucking brilliant, you know that?”

Riley nodded playfully as Dean looked to a large cabinet. “Sam! Help me get this.”

The brothers moved the cabinet in front of the tree and rushed to grab branches from the tree. They stripped them of their needles and prepared to fight.

It went silent as they approached the kitchen door. Suddenly, Mr. Carrigan tackled Dean to the ground and began punching him again and again.

Sam shouted, “Dean!” as he ran to his aid and fought to get the man off his brother.

A sound came from behind Riley and she turned to see Madge smiling back at her. “You little thing.” Her face distorted momentarily and swung violently in almost a blur. “I loved that tree.”

As Riley went to raise her stake, Madge hit her and the hunter crashed into the couch and onto the floor. She grabbed branches at her side as the god walked towards her and hit her as hard as she could.

Riley fought to keep the woman at arm's length as the Winchesters overpowered Mr. Carrigan. Sam pinned him to the ground as Dean shoved the stake into his chest.

Madge screamed as she watched her husband and froze in shock, giving Riley the perfect opportunity to stab her with her own stake. The hunter scrunched her face and grunted as she pushed the stake further in before Madge fell to the ground, dead.

The three struggled to catch their breaths as they looked at each other.

“Merry Christmas,” Sam said through ragged breath.

------

Christmas Eve 1991

All was quiet as the children of the world waited for Santa. The snow continued to fall over the motel housing the lonely Winchester boys as Sam slept soundly in his bed.

Dean went to his side and shook his brother to wake him. “Sam, wake up!”

Just as Sam’s eyes began to open, he turned towards Dean who had a smile on his face.

“Dad was here. Look what he brought.”

His gaze turned around to see a little Christmas tree, decorated with a few large and colorful lights. A few small presents sat beneath the small piece of chopped evergreen.

“Dad was here?” Sam asked groggily.

“Yeah. Look at this. We made a killing.”

Yawning, Sam mumbled, “why didn't he try to wake me up?”

Dean thought quickly on his feet with a playful scoff. “He tried to, like a thousand times.”

“He did?”

“Yeah. Did I tell you he would give us Christmas, or what? Go on, dive in.”

Sam leaped from his bed and hurried over to the Christmas tree. He found two presents wrapped with themed wrapping paper; one even was adorned with a shiny green bow.

Sitting on the couch, he began to unwrap his first gift.

Dean sat on the arm of the couch and watched his little brother with excitement. “What is it?”

Baffled, Sam held up a pink box. “Sapphire Barbie?”

The older brother chuckled. “Dad probably thinks you’re a girl.”

“Shut up!” Sam tossed the Barbie to the ground.

“Open that one.”

As the youngest Winchester opened his second gift, he found a sparkling cheerleading stick.

John had broken his promise, again.

Sam held it in his hands sadly before looking to Dean. “Dad never showed, did he?”

“Yeah, he did, I swear.”

“Dean…where’d you get all this stuff?”

Realizing he couldn’t lie anymore, Dean’s eye cast down with a sigh. “Nice house up the block. I swear I didn’t know they were chick presents.” Dean watched his sad brother with a heavy heart, desperate to bring him comfort. “Look, I’m sure Dad would have been here if he could.”

“If he’s alive.”

“Don’t say that. Of course, he’s alive. He’s Dad.”

It was then that Sam noticed the heavy burden on Dean’s shoulders; that his big brother worried just as much as Sam did. Grabbing the present he had wrapped in newspaper earlier that night, he held it out to Dean. “Here, take this.”

“No. No, that’s for Dad.”

“Dad lied to me. I want you to have it.” Sam continued to hold out the gift to Dean with a small curl on his lip.

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Trying to hide his moment of excitement, Dean finally took the gift and began to tear into it. Inside, was a necklace. It was a black cord that had an amulet hanging in from it. The piece was a metallic gold color and depicted the head of a humanoid being with horns and tribal adornment.

Dean couldn’t remember the last time he smiled so genuinely as he held the amulet in his hand. “Thank you, Sam. I--I love it.” He proudly put the necklace on over his head and the boys sat in silence with an unspoken love between them.

Even if they were alone on Christmas, as long as they had each other, that would always be enough.

------

There wasn’t a day that had passed since that Christmas Eve, almost sixteen years before, that Dean hadn’t worn that necklace. It was practically a part of who he was.

Dean walked into their motel room and grinned with surprise. Riley and Sam had decorated the room with a small Christmas tree and a ‘Merry Christmas’ sign. Ella Fitzgerald’s ‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas’ played as Riley smiled in his direction, putting on the final ornament. Sam looked at his brother lovingly as Dean took it all in.

With amazement and joy in his eyes, Dean asked, “what’s all this?”

Riley stood next to Sam and shrugged playfully. “Looks like Christmas to me.”

Dean’s eyes met his brothers with a smirk. “What made you change your mind?”

Handing his big brother a glass of eggnog, Sam ignored his question. “Here, uh--try the eggnog. Let me know if it needs some more kick.”

With only a single sip, Dean coughed, looking surprised at the taste. “No, we’re good,” he practically wheezed through his cough.

“Good. Well, uh--have a seat. Let’s do…Christmas stuff, or whatever.”

Dean nodded happily as he took off his jacket. “Alright, first things first.” As Sam and Riley sat on the brown, worn couch, Dean pulled up a chair. He took out four packages wrapped in brown paper from a plastic bag and held them out to his family. “Merry Christmas, guys.”

The two smiled as they took them and Riley peered up at him. “Where’d you even go?”

“Someplace special,” Dean replied. The two looked at him waiting for a better answer. “The gas mart down the street.” His brother and girlfriend laughed at his response. “Open them up.”

Both Sam and his sister reached under the couch for four more packages, each all wrapped in newspaper. The two swapped gifts between them and Sam kissed Riley’s temple before they gave Dean his.

With surprise and excitement, Dean asked, “really?” before taking his gifts.

Sam opened his first gift and laughed as he held up two porn magazines. “Skin mags!” Dean nodded, satisfied with Sam’s reaction as his brother opened his next gift. “And…shaving cream.”

“You like?”

“Yeah,” Sam smiled from ear to ear. “Yeah.” Opening his next two from Riley, Sam found a bag of trail mix and a small bottle of lotion. “Lotion?” he asked with an uncertain smile.

Riley chuckled. “Well, it was supposed to be a joke, but now it goes perfectly with your new porn, brother!”

Dean threw his head back in laughter, practically grabbing his stomach.

Giving her a teasing middle finger, Sam smiled and feigned, “haha, very funny. But I’m about to bust into this trail mix as soon as we’re done. Thanks, sis.”

The Winchesters turned to Riley showing it was her turn to open hers and she giggled unwrapping her gifts. She laughed as she found two of her favorite chocolate candy bars, a bottle of gas station-brand scented soap, and a pair of fluffy blue socks. “Oh, boys...you spoil me,” she beamed. “Thank you, guys.”

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” Dean said as Riley went to him to give him a kiss. He opened his arms allowing her to sit on his lap and he wrapped himself around her as he opened his. Sheer joy covered his face as he found a bottle of motor oi, and a candy bar. “Look at this. Fuel for me and fuel for my baby. These are awesome. Thanks.” Dean’s face looked like it was probably beginning to ache with a smile that couldn’t stop.

Opening his next gifts, he found a pair of sunglasses and a Christmas bow. “Uh--Rye, I think the bow goes on the gifts, sweetheart.”

“That is very true.” Riley took the bow, removed its sticker, and slapped it on her chest, right above her breasts. “Merry Christmas, babe.”

Dean laughed as his face buried into her neck, holding her close. Riley squealed and his fingers pinched her chin before he kissed her, smiling against her lips. “Best gifts ever.” He picked up his eggnog and grinned as he held it out, “Merry Christmas, guys.”

Sam and Riley held their plastic glasses out as well and they toasted them together.

“Merry Christmas,” they all said.

The room fell quiet as spirits briefly fell. They all knew that Christmas would be the last they would spend together.

Riley was consumed by the Winchester’s heavy hearts and she exhaled hard trying to shut it out. If that was going to be their last Christmas, they were going to do it right. She got up and rushed to her bag before she ran back with a camera. The brothers groaned with a laugh as she sat on the couch and motioned for them.

“Yeah, yeah. Stop complaining and smile for our Christmas card,” she joked.

Dean wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close as Sam reluctantly scooted to her side. It didn’t take more than a few seconds for Sam and Dean to smile along with her before the flash went off.

As they pulled apart, Dean took the camera from her. When she looked at him, he pulled her in for a kiss as he reached his arm far out to take a picture. Their lips were curled with contentment as he triggered the camera.

Sam opened his mouth to speak as the couple pulled apart and Dean looked to his brother with worry over what he would say.

“Hey, Dean, y–-” Sam looked sad as he fumbled for his words. He hesitated and then sighed before meeting his brother’s eyes. “Do you feel like watching the game?”

Dean smiled in relief. “Absolutely.”

“Alright.”

Standing up, Sam reached over to turn on the old TV set. The three sat on the couch together as they watched the winter football game. The brothers smirked at each other and Dean pulled Riley to his chest as he drank his eggnog.

In the silence, all that was left was the whistle of the referee and the voice of the announcer.

As Dean kissed the top of Riley’s head, he inhaled her scent and laced his fingers with hers.

Their night was perfect, and whatever would happen tomorrow, would be tomorrow. All that mattered was being with Sam and Riley. That night was all Dean needed to find the strength to keep going. He knew that all he would ever need was his family.

So, for the first time in eight months, Dean relaxed and felt contentment run through him. If there was a heaven, Dean was sure that it was what he had at that moment. And if Hell was what awaited him, that memory would be enough to keep his spirit alive.

Outside, snow began to gently fall to the ground. With all right once again on that Michigan night, there would be a white Christmas. It fluttered softly onto the Impala as lights twinkled in the shine of her hood.

And through the window, sat the three hunters, lost in what would become one of their favorite memories.

------

S3 Chapter 8: Dream a Little Dream of Me

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