Category: Sam and Dean (Genfic)
Author’s Notes: Written for the supernatural100 “Holidays” Drabble challenge.
Messages (Valentine’s Day)
While Dean is in the shower, Sam slips out to the store. Minutes later he is back, tidying the room and leaving his offering in a water glass on Dean’s nightstand.
It is a single, perfect rose.
He is buried in a book when Dean finally emerges. Dean dresses and reaches for his watch… and just stops.
“It’s for you.”
“Because no-one deserves it more.”
Dean’s face goes quiet, and he spends the next few minutes gently smelling the soft flower.
And Sam realizes that all those things Dean never lets him say... he should be showing him instead.
Chocolate-Flavored Memories (Easter)
Easter was always a quiet day for the Winchesters. Evil tended to sleep in the surrounding hours, and the family used the opportunity to relax.
When they were kids, they’d find a park or some grass and Dean and Sam would throw baseballs and catch Frisbees for hours. The following day featured a stop at a grocery store for sale-priced candy, which Dean would dive into with relish.
Sam sometimes wonders whether Dean remembers his earliest Easters, because his brother always bites the ears off the chocolate rabbits right away. This glimpse of childhood Dean is more bittersweet than anything.
Due Caution (Halloween)
It is the biggest night for evil, and Dean is itching to get started. Supplies and snacks and cemeteries are waiting for them both.
Sam is worried. The dark is crowded with malice and costumed children, and in the blackness and confusion they can sometimes look the same. “Protect the innocent” is the credo that they live by. He doesn’t want a Danny or Tracy on his conscience or his knife.
Dean is adamant, until he threatens a first-grader and Sam’s jumped by a vampire child.
They call it quits by nine. Tonight, the war can resolve itself without them.
Good Will Toward Men (Christmas)
Christmas was always “what might have been.”
In rented housing, with a stolen forest tree, it was enough—but Sam wondered why that couldn’t happen every year. In bad years at motels, it was dime-store presents and sadness in the dark.
With Jess, there were lights and ornaments for three perfect years.
Today, Dean has hot chocolate and Fritos for the motel room. They burrow upside-down under the covers of the only bed until their heads poke out the bottom. They watch movies like that until Dean’s asleep and Sam’s elbows are numb.
This Christmas is one of the best.