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Timestamp: Just a Normal Christmas
A Broken Spoke Verse
Milo came running up to Sam, his eyes shiny bright and cheeks flushed red. They were standing outside of a pig pen at Erick Miller’s place. The Millers had arrived in Hope, taken one look around and thought uh-uh, then moved to an abandoned farm a few miles from the Winchesters.
Dean had bitched, of course.
“Don’t expect me to hang out every Friday and play cards or grill burgers,” he groused. But of course, that’s kind of what they did, finding Erick and his wife and daughter to be decent people who weren’t afraid of hard work but liked to kick back and relax when the day was done. They were friendly and open minded, and never mentioned the fact that they knew Sam and Dean were “together” together and brothers at the same time. This sort of made them instant best friends.
Sam was getting some great pig raising tips from the fourth generation farmer and was contemplating a trade for a couple of piglets. With Erick’s help, they might turn into real farmers after all, or a reasonable facsimile.
“Sam- Sam! Why didn’t you tell me-“ Milo panted, his hands on his knees as he smiled up at Sam.
“What? Slow down, Milo- tell you what?”
“About Christmas, Sam! And Santa Claus – and presents!” he was grinning so hard his eyes were almost swallowed up. “- and a big feast and – and- the Christmas tree!”
Oh, fuck.
“I almost forgot cause we had it when I was real little- but Audra reminded me- and she said Santa comes down the chimney, Sam – and we have one- we have a chimney! And he leaves presents for everybody-
“Whoa there, buddy.” He put out a hand to steady the kid. “Settle down, alright? We’ll talk about this later when we get home, okay?”
He tried not to feel like a complete shit as he watched the light go out of Milo’s eyes as he turned away to walk back to the house.
“Sorry about that, Sam.” Erick said. “I didn’t think of Audra telling Milo about Christmas. It’s one of the few traditions we have anymore- so, l-”
Sam smiled and clapped him on the shoulder.
“Hey, man. No problem. It’s not something we’ve talked about with him, and maybe it’s time. He’s gonna see people believe in different things- have different traditions. He’ll deal with it. Christmas in our house – well, it wasn’t a big deal- so I really don’t know what we’ll do about it.”
It was only October. Sam hoped they could distract him enough that by December 25th, Milo would have forgotten all about Christmas.
***
“You’re fucking kidding me. Why does he need Christmas anyway? We get him everything he needs. Hell- kid’s got every frigging movie and video game known to man – toys- music. I mean, Jesus, Sam, what the hell are we supposed to do with this?”
“Look, Dean, I get it that you’re frustrated, but-“
“Stop that shit, Sam.”
“What shit?”
“That patronizing shit you always do. ‘I know that you’re frustrated’- you forget I know you too well and I see through your bullshit.”
“Okay. Fine!”
“Fine!”
“FINE.”
They retreated into silence for a moment. Dean slowly and lovingly wiping down his weapons. Now there was a fucking tradition worth keeping, Sam thought. Christmas? Brought the Winchester boys nothing but heartache and sadness, until they finally learned to consider it as important as National Cheese Month.
“So what do we do, Sammy? Make up all kinds of crap about Santa living at the North Pole and flying around with eight tiny reindeer- our stockings hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that St. Nicholas soon will be there?—What?” He looked at Sam who was looking at him as if horns were growing out of his head. “You can’t go anywhere at Christmas without hearing that poem. Shut up.”
Sam shook his head.
“Uh. Anyway- look, I don’t know.” Said Sam. “We never had too much luck with the whole Christmas thing, but I’ve been thinking. Maybe it’s not such a bad idea. There’s not much left of anything traditional from the old days, y’know. This could be a good thing. Get him thinking about being good to others, the spirit of giving- all that shit…”
“Milo’s already a sweet kid. Don’t need to teach him how to be a giver. I just- crap, it’s so complicated. You know, there’s this whole Santa Claus, Christmas, Jesus and Judeo-Christian theology that I don’t even know how I feel about anymore…”
Sam sighed. “I know. It’s hard to know what to believe when you’ve peeked behind the curtain, but… I think it could be good for him. For us, too. And we can always tell him how things really are with Heaven, the angels…”
“The truth, Sammy. We gotta tell him the truth. All of it…” Dean looked stricken for a moment, before he looked down and slowly rubbed the rag over his colt.
“We will, one day. Ease him into it, hopefully. But he’s still a kid- and we can let him have what we never did, Dean.”
When Dean raised his eyes to Sam’s, they were twinkling. “If we’re doing this, Sammy, we’re going all in, you hear me?”
“I hear you. Long as you make cookies.”
“Cookies? Oh, that’s just the beginning. I’ve got a menu to plan. Best be prepared to make a couple of runs into Hope for a few things before the weather gets too bad.”
Sam bent down and put his arms around Dean- his nose buried in his neck. Against the scruff he whispered, “You’re the best, Dean.”
“I know.” He smiled, going back to cleaning his Colt, and whistling Baby It’s Cold Outside under his breath.
***
“Sam? Dean says Santa’s not real. Like. He’s just a pretend guy. But he said to ask you if he told it wrong.”
They were repairing the corral in anticipation of getting a couple of horses. Sam hadn’t ridden in years—not since the trip to Samuel Colt. He couldn’t help it the way it hurt a little with every step backward they made on the industrial ladder. Don’t be a picky bitch, you’re still alive and kicking. Beats the alternative, he thought, looking at Milo and smiling.
“Well, I guess he told it right. Santa’s like -if you took all the good stuff about Christmas; the family, being kind to one another, taking care of people you love and animals, and rolled them all into one person. That’s kinda how Santa Claus is.”
Milo still didn’t look too happy.
“I was hoping he was real.”
Sam ruffled his hand through the kid’s long, floppy hair.
“He’s as real as you wanna make him. Nothing wrong with pretending real hard, and believing.”
Milo was quiet, handing Sam his tools and thinking.
“So he’s kinda like the tulpa, right? Like he’s not real - but if you believe his is, then he’s real to you.”
Sam nearly dropped his hammer.
“Dean told you about the tulpa? I guess he did. Well, that’s not exactly how I’d describe him, but it’ll do. Now tell you what- You concentrate on fixing this fence, and when we’re done, we’ll go in and brainstorm what we’re gonna get Dean for Christmas, ‘kay?”
***
Sam thought an elephant had broken into the room the way Milo burst in, crashing the door back on its hinges, jumped onto the bed and threw himself between Sam and Dean.
“Get up, guys! Guys! It’s Christmas! Come on, guys!!”
Sam groaned and pulled the pillow over his head. This isn’t the good part of Christmas, he decided, hoping to convince the boy to come back in a couple of hours.
“You gotta get up anyway,” Dean croaked out. “Got animals to feed, now.”
“Fuck, don’t remind me.” He said, pulling himself into a sitting position. “Milo! Christ- calm the hell down!”
“Can’t, Sam- “ Milo said as he bounced on his knees. Dean managed to ignore the kid, but his body was bouncing right along. Looked pretty funny and kind of cute, Sam decided. “Can’t you guys just hurry?” Milo whined out.
“Dude, are you 13 or 3?”
Milo didn’t look the least bit insulted.
“Can’t help it, Sam! It’s Christmas! Ever’body gets excited about Christmas! And Dean made a chocolate cake, Sammy! I can’t wait!!”
There were muffled chuckles coming from underneath Dean’s pillow.
“Betcha don’t forget to lock the bedroom door next time…”
Milo and Sam got up and took care of the pigs, goats and chickens, and by the time they came in, Dean had coffee and cinnamon rolls ready. It was shaping up to be an awesome Christmas, that’s for damn sure.
They sat with their coffees while Milo tore shit up, ripping into his gifts like it was – well, hell, like it was Christmas. Now Sam finally got it, after seeing it for himself. He loved the toys and books, but the look on his face when he opened the art box from Dean was really magical. It hadn’t escaped attention that although Milo was a smart and tough little guy, he had a sensitive streak a mile wide. Dean loved to indulge that. Maybe it was, in a way, like making up for all those times they had to squash Sammy’s gentle nature for some sparring or target practice.
“I need some real art for this place, Milo. You know I’m sick of the crap we’ve got, I mean, come on- flowers?” Dean gestured at the couple of prints hanging on the walls.
Milo grinned back. “Maybe I’ll paint Ozzy and Sylvester!”
“That would be awesome. I know anything you paint is gonna kick ass, buddy." Dean winked and whispered conspiratorially, "Now let’s give Sammy his gift-“
Milo pulled the box from under the tree and handed it to Sam. He started unwrapping it, and was momentarily caught by the look in Dean’s eye- soft and happy. He smiled and winked a little before opening the top of the box.
“Dean. This is beautiful- “ It was a hunting knife. Handmade from Damascus steel with a finger notched handle of elk antler. The craftsmanship was extraordinary, right down to the way it had his name, Sam Winchester, engraved on the blade.
“Guy in Hope made it. He’s a knifemaker from way back. I helped him set up a forge and get his tools together. He made me this in trade. I think I got the better end of the deal…”
Sam held up the blade and let his eyes roam over every inch of it. “I saw him, but I had no idea he could make something like this.” He hugged Dean hard and kissed him, not giving a shit about Milo sitting there because it wasn’t like the kid hadn’t seen them hug and kiss before. Just not this shmoopy . Well, okay, close to this shmoopy, he admitted, but who cared?
They gave Milo his rifle, a .22 semi auto carbine. Now the gun safety classes would start in earnest, because Dean didn’t want an adopted son with one eye or anything. The kid was beaming like he was ready to bag his first rabbit. It wasn't an easy decision, and Dean would have waited, maybe forever, for his boy to ever touch a weapon, but Sam knew he had to win this one- they lived way out- and for Milo's own protection, he needed to know how to handle a weapon. And he was definitely old enough. They were living proof of that. But still, that look in Dean's eyes when he relented would haunt Sam forever.
What really made his life was when Dean handed his present to Milo. It was irregular and taped using what looked like a whole roll.
“Thought you could hang it on the door to your room” Dean said as Milo ran his hand reverently over the wooden sign, tracing the words, Milo Winchester, with one finger.
He looked up, from Dean to Sam and back. “This is the best day ever. Thanks, guys. It’s awesome…”
They had the Millers over for dinner, which ended with a few toasts and a recipe exchange between Dean and Susie Miller. The Millers left with the last of daylight peeking over the hills, and Sam and Dean waved them off and turned to put their crew to bed.
Milo was still light, but long and gangly enough that Sam needed Dean to watch that he didn’t bang him into a doorjamb as he carried the sleeping boy to his bed. When Ozzy and the cat hopped up to join him, Milo didn’t move a muscle.
“I think Christmas broke our kid.” Dean said as they stood looking down on the three junior members of the Winchester family.
Sharing a bottle of Johnnie Walker, they sat in front of the fire. This was one of those times you didn’t need words, Sam thought to himself. It was pretty much a perfect end to a perfect day.
“You gonna share what’s going on in that bobble head of yours?” Dean said as he lowered his glass. He looked relaxed and happy. The JW was doing its job, judging by the slightly glassy look in Dean’s eyes.
“Nothing. No really. Nothing to say. This has been just- “ He took a minute to breathe. “Just… a perfect day. A perfect Christmas. I don’t think I could imagine how great it could be. Even as a kid, I didn’t know…” He was a big girl, because he couldn’t stop that lump in his throat or the way his eyes got moist, thinking of all the times Dean had tried his best to give his little brother a nice Christmas, even if he had to steal it.
Dean wrapped his arm around Sam and drew him close. Sam could feel everything in the hug – so tight and full of love that he had to close his eyes against the intensity of his feelings.
“Did you like it, Sammy? I wanted you to have the best Christmas ever...” he murmured into Sam’s neck.
Sam put his hands around Dean’s face and kissed him gently. “It was the best, Dean. But you know, the best present I could have is being here with you. You and me, Milo- our own family. That’s all I could ever wish for.”
He pulled a small box out of the pocket of his hoodie. It was one of those small boxes that jewelry came in. No, it wasn’t a ring- he thought as he saw what was going through Dean’s mind. That wasn’t really a bad idea, though- maybe he’d have to think on that one.
“Now you’re gonna laugh, but I think we got our presents from the same guy—“ he smiled shyly. “I drew him a sketch of what I wanted, and- I think it came out pretty good.”
Dean was opening the box, and for a minute, Sam wasn’t sure if he’d fucked up, dredging up old memories best left buried, but then, as Dean slowly smiled and shook his head as if he couldn’t believe it, Sam knew it was the perfect gift. Dean pulled the leather cord over his head and Sam just kept thinking how right he looked with the strange little amulet around his neck.
Dean looked up at him with tears in his eyes and a smile on his face.
“Sammy-“
“I missed it on you, Dean.”
“You gave it to me on Christmas.” He held the amulet in his hand, just looking at it, and Sam could almost see the memories with Dean- that Christmas when they had no one and nothing but each other.
Sam nodded, smiling back. “I know it’s not the same one-“ He didn’t manage to finish because Dean grabbed him, wrapping his arms around Sam’s neck so hard he couldn’t do anything but hold on and ride it out, and Dean saying over and over, “ Sammy... Sammy...“ and Sam knew that this was their gift from Heaven. This chance at happiness, once and for all- and he wasn’t gonna screw it up, wasn’t gonna let it go no matter what.
They rested their foreheads together for a couple of minutes as they let the flood of emotions subside, then Dean pulled back, a sly twinkle in his eye.
“You know, there’s still a couple of gifts I haven’t given you yet. You gotta be real good, though…”
“Is that right?” Sam nuzzled him, biting on his ear a little. “What if I don’t want to be good, huh? Kinda feel like being naughty right now.”
“Mm, I can deal with that. Maybe you need to come upstairs and show me just what you mean by naughty. I’d spank the shit out of you, but you know how you get so loud. Might wake up the rest of the crew and we can’t have that. Or maybe I might have to just gag you to keep you quiet…”
“Damn, Dean, you and that dirty mouth of yours- always getting me so fucking hot. Not fair. Besides, you know it’s you that gets the gag, cause you can never keep that hot, sexy mouth of yours quiet…” He moaned a little as Dean wrapped his hand in his hair and pulled him in for a blistering kiss. They kissed, wet and sloppy, until they were out of breath and pulling at their uncomfortably tight jeans.
Sam nodded to Dean, taking in the lust-blown eyes and his slick, red lips.
“You go on up. I’m gonna turn out the lights, and I’ll be up in a minute.” He slid his hand up Dean’s thigh until he reached the hard length of him and squeezed lightly.
“Dammit, Sammy, you better not be too long…” Dean hissed as he arched into Sam’s touch.
“Not gonna be. I’m just gonna let the dog out and I’ll be right up.” He kissed Dean, watching the heat rise in his impossibly green eyes. That soft smile he shot Sam was full of promises, and he ducked his head shyly and turned to head up the stairs.
Sam nudged Ozzy off Milo’s bed and put him out, watching as the dog trotted across the yard in the darkness. It was funny to think that he used to want a home – a normal life. The kind of life where family came home for Christmas and everyone wore stupid sweaters and drank eggnog. A family where Christmas meant arguing with each other and spending more than you could afford on gifts, and dressing up and going to holiday parties.
This wasn’t anything like normal. Not compared to the yardstick of what was. The old days were dead and gone. Most of the traditions, too. Christmas barely remembered, and if it wasn’t for Milo, it would be another tradition swept into the dustbin as far as the Winchesters were concerned.
Thinking over the day; the time spent with friends and family, taking joy in just being alive and able to spend it with the ones who matter- that’s what made it a perfect Christmas. Simple gifts that came from the heart, and a home and family that was unconventional to say the least. But it worked. All of it. Just perfectly imperfect.
Sam called the dog in and turned off the lights.
“Sammy-!” Dean called from somewhere upstairs. Sam smiled at the sound of his brother’s voice and bounded up the steps, two at a time.