Christmas, 1986

Sam is almost 4. Dean is almost 8.

Just when I finally find time to sit down and eat, there's a knock at the door. I immediately know who it is. Only John Winchester shows up completely unannounced at this time of night. I let out a sigh. At least the boys are in time for supper.

As I open the front door I see Sam standing in the front yard, his face turned upward, mouth open, trying to catch snowflakes on his tongue. He notices me at the door and gives me a huge grin. "It's snowing, Uncle Bobby!"

"You'd better get in here out of the cold." I nod at John, who is standing on the front porch, holding both boys' bags. Dean is in the yard, watching his brother, but when he hears my words, he grasps Sam's hand and begins to pull the younger boy inside.

"Hope this isn't a bad time, Bobby." John places the bags inside the front door.

As if that would make a difference.

"Just grabbing a bite to eat. You want something?"

John shakes his head. "No, I need to be going. Do you mind if the boys stay here for a few days?"

Sam runs through the door, grabs me around the knees in a quick hug and scampers off toward the library. Dean gives me a smile and follows after his younger brother.

"You know I don't mind if they stay but it's two days until Christmas. Are you gonna be back in time for that?"

Dean pauses on his way to the library, his back is still turned to us but I know the boy is listening to see what his father's reply will be.

"I don't know, Bobby." John glances toward Dean and lowers his voice. "I've got a lead on what killed Mary. I need to follow it while it's fresh."

Not for the first time, I want to smack John upside the head. I understand John's feeling of helplessness, not knowing what's killed his wife, but those boys need their daddy with them much more than they need their daddy out looking for revenge.

"It's Christmas, John." I glance over at where Dean has finally disappeared into the library with his brother. We both saw the boy's shoulders slump when he heard John's answer.

"I'll see what I can do, okay?" He gives me a look that tells me to mind my own business but as far as I'm concerned, those boys are my business. If John doesn't want my opinion, he shouldn't come around…although I never want that to happen in a million years. I'd miss Sam and Dean too much if it did.

"Hey, Dean?"

"Yes, sir?" Dean pokes his head out of the library.

"Watch after your brother and don't pester Bobby too much, okay?"

"Yes, sir."

John starts out the door and Dean calls after him, "Um, Dad?"

"Yeah, son?"

"Will you try to make it back for Christmas?"

"Dean, you know I won't miss it without a good reason."

"I know, Dad, it's just….." Dean glances back over his shoulder, looking for his little brother. "Sammy is so excited about Christmas this year….and Santa Claus."

"Oh."

"Had your head up your ass as usual, I see." I might could've said that a better way but I've never been one for mincing words.

John rolls his eyes at me. "I didn't know it was that big of a deal. He didn't care about Christmas last year."

"He wasn't old enough, Dad. All he's talked about for the past two weeks is Santa and Christmas." Dean's voice is almost pleading and I know Sam isn't the only reason he wants his father to be with them at Christmas. That boy worships the ground his daddy walks on.

"Santa?" Sam scurries from the library. "Where's Santa?"

John scoops up his youngest son as he goes hurtling past him. "Whoa there, tiger! It's not time for Santa yet."

Sam glances at Dean who holds up two fingers. Sam holds up two fingers of his own and gives his father an earnest look: "This many days and he'll be here."

John laughs. "I guess I'd better hurry up and get going so I can get back before Santa comes."

Dean's face lights up at the thought of his father being with them for Christmas and I hope John isn't just blowing smoke up all our asses. If so, I'm going to have a word or two with John Winchester and he probably isn't going to like it.

After John is gone, I fix a plate for the boys and they sit at the kitchen table eating and talking about all the things they've done since the last time they were here. It seems as though Sam has grown a foot, even though I know this is an exaggeration, and Dean has lost two more of his teeth.

"Uncle Bobby, can we have a Christmas tree?" Sam asks.

I haven't had a Christmas tree since Karen died. I never could see any reason for one….until now. Sam is looking at me expectantly and I wonder if anyone will ever be able to tell those puppy dog eyes no.

"I don't see why not. I think I still have some decorations around here somewhere." I clear the plates from the table. "Tell you what, you boys get ready for bed and in the morning we'll go out and chop down the best tree we can find."

"Yay!" Sam claps his hands in delight and Dean grins at his little brother. I can tell Dean isn't nearly as excited at the thought of Christmas as his brother but he's putting on a good show for the little tyke. I know how hard things are for Dean. More often than not, he is Sam's caretaker and it's caused the boy to grow up too fast. He knows there's a good chance their dad won't be back in time for Christmas…..he also knows there's always the possibility their dad will never make it back.

"Alright, then. Off to bed with the both of ya."

I smile at the sound of the two boys scurrying up the stairs, trying to be the first one to the tiny bathroom. I never had kids of my own but I can't imagine loving my own kids any more than I do those two. They're something special. I just hope John realizes it too.

Both boys are up early the next morning, something Dean doesn't look too happy about although Sam is about to burst with excitement. Dean grumbles about how he could've gotten some more sleep the whole time Sam is searching for the perfect tree. When the youngest Winchester finally announces which tree I should cut down and we haul it into the house, his infectious mood begins to rub off on his older brother.

I trot down to the basement and return with a box of decorations that hasn't seen the light of day in many years. Sam begins to pull things from the box, almost reverently and much more carefully than most kids twice his age.

"Will you help me decorate, Dean?"

Once again, I'm witness to the power of Sam's puppy dog eyes as Dean begins to place ornaments on the tree although I'm pretty sure Sam doesn't have to use that look on Dean. There isn't anything that boy won't do for his little brother.

When Dean places the last ornament on the tree, Sam puts his hands on his hips and stands staring at the tree for a long moment. "It needs one more thing." He drops to his knees beside the decoration box and digs through some broken ornaments and a strand of lights that no longer work until he pulls out a small white….or almost white…..angel. The little winged tree topper has definitely seen better days.

"Can you put this on top, Uncle Bobby?"

"Sure thing, Sam." I take the angel from Sam and place it on top of the tree.

Sam grins. "Now it's finished. Do you like it, Dean?"

"Yeah, Sammy, it looks great."

Sam giggles and begins running from one side of the room to the other. "The angel's watching me."

I laugh at Sam's antics but when I look at Dean there are tears in the boy's eyes. He mutters something about being thirsty and rushes out of the room, toward the kitchen. I thumb through some books on the shelves and finally find something suitable to keep Sam quiet for a few minutes.

"Here, Sam." I hand the book to the youngster. "Take a break and look at this while I go talk to your brother."

Sam frowns. "Can I talk to him too?"

"In a few minutes, okay?"

Reluctantly, Sam climbs onto the couch and holds the book open in his lap but I can feel his eyes boring into my back all the way into the kitchen. For such a young age, his first concern is always his older brother.

Dean is standing at the kitchen sink holding a glass of water in his hand. He gulps it down as I enter the room, making a big production of wiping his mouth on his sleeve, along with wiping his eyes.

"You okay, son?"

Dean nods but doesn't say anything. Tears are still close to the surface but I have no idea what has set them off.

"You want to talk about it?"

"Do you think….." Dean clears his throat and tries again. "Do you think Sammy remembers our Mom?"

Oh, hell. This is not my territory. Damn you, John Winchester!

"He was awful little, Dean. Do you remember anything from when you were a baby?"

Dean shakes his head. "No, but what he said…."

"About what?"

"About the angel watching him. Mom told me every night before I went to sleep that angels were watching over me. She told Sammy the same thing."

The tears Dean has been struggling to hold back spill over onto his cheeks. He wipes at them stubbornly and glances toward the library. He doesn't want Sam to see him cry.

"Do you miss your wife, Bobby?"

The question throws me off guard. One minute we're talking about angels and the next….well, I guess my wife and Dean's mom are the closest things to angels we'll ever see.

"Every day, son….every day."

"I miss my Mom every day too." He wipes his nose with his sleeve. "I'd better go check on Sammy."

I swallow the lump in my throat and follow Dean back into the library. Sam has discarded his book and curled up under the Christmas tree.

"You okay, Dean?" he asks sleepily.

"I'm fine, Sammy. Looks like you need to go to bed."

"I wanna wait for Santa." Sam yawns loudly while rubbing his eyes.

I chuckled. "You know Santa won't come if you're awake."

When Sam doesn't reply, Dean says, "I don't think we have to worry about that."

Maybe not, but I was worried about the Santa part.

After carrying Sam up to the bedroom and watching Dean tuck him in, I make my rounds of the house, checking that all salt lines are intact and doors are locked. I also look for anything that might be a good present for "Santa" to leave for the boys. The best I can come up with are some apples and oranges from the kitchen and a few bars of chocolate leftover from the last time they were here.

I decide to catch up on some reading. It's still fairly early and I keep hoping John will make it back before tomorrow morning. If the boys wake up and their father isn't here, they will both be very disappointed. I've only been reading for a few minutes when Dean appears in the doorway.

"Did you need something, Dean?"

He holds out a small package that's been wrapped, but quite badly. "Can I put this under the tree for Sam?"

"Sure, son. Can I ask what it is?"

"It's Legos." Dean carefully places the package under the tree. "I didn't want Sam not to have anything from Santa."

Damn, what these boys do to my heart.

"Where did you get them?" My first thought was "five finger discount."

"I bought them. Took a long time to save up the money."

"You didn't get yourself anything?"

Dean shook his head. "I don't need anything. I just want my Dad to be here for Christmas…for Sammy."

"I'm sure….."

There's a loud clatter outside and I jump to my feet, grabbing the shotgun I always keep close by.

"What was that?" whispers Dean.

"I don't know. Go upstairs and keep an eye on your brother. I'll find out what it is."

Dean starts up the stairs but looks back at me. "Be careful, Bobby."

"Don't worry. I will." I motion for him to scoot on upstairs as I head toward the back door. I make my way outside, staying close to the house. The commotion sounded as though it came from the junkyard so I keep my eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary. It could be nothing more than a neighbor's dog and if I'm lucky that's all it will be.

I stand there for what seems like an eternity when I finally spot someone moving toward the back of the house…definitely not a neighbor's dog. I raise the shotgun and wait for whoever it is to get a bit closer. The person is dressed in red…..not very smart for sneaking around.

Come on idjit. Just a little closer…

I wait until the person is in range of my shotgun before I issue a warning. "You'd better stop right there unless you wanna be pickin' buckshot out of your teeth…..if you have any left when I get done."

The person takes my warning to heart and stops dead in their tracks. "Bobby, it's me."

"Who the hell is me?" I keep the gun raised and peer into the darkness. "John, is that you?"

He takes a chance by moving one step closer and I see a sheepish grin on a familiar face. He motions toward the red outfit he's wearing. "Well, some people might call me Santa."

"Jesus Christ, ya idjit! I almost shot you! What kind of Christmas present would that have been?" I lower my gun and finally take in the fact that John Winchester is standing before me, dressed as Santa. "And where the hell did you get that outfit?"

"Rented it. Are the boys asleep?"

"Sam has been passed out for a while but Dean's awake. He just put a present under the tree for Sam…..from Santa."

John looks appropriately ashamed, knowing he's not always been the father he should be. "He's a good boy."

"Yeah, he is." I motion toward the bag in his hand. "I hope you have something in there for him too."

John nods and grins. "I do. Not sure if Santa would really approve though."

"You know what he told me he wanted?"

John shakes his head and looks worried…..probably wondering if he got the wrong thing….if once again he's not been paying enough attention to his sons and what they want or need.

"He just wants you to be here, John."

To my surprise John's eyes fill with tears. "I got to thinking about it as I drove off from here and all I could think of was Dean when he was Sammy's age. It's probably the only good memory Dean has of Christmas. What kind of father would I be if I didn't make sure Sam has at least one good memory of his own?"

Damn if he didn't convince me he actually has a heart.

"Give me that suit."

"What do you mean?"

"Your boys want their daddy here…..and Santa. They don't give a rat's ass if I'm here. Give me that suit and they'll get exactly what they want."

"Are you sure?"

"I wouldn't have offered if I wasn't. Now give me the damn suit."

John shucks off the suit and hands it over. "That's not true, you know."

He helps me balance myself as I pull the red pants over my jeans. "What's not true?"

"That the boys don't care whether or not you're here."

I thrust my arms into the jacket as John hands me the pillow he had tucked inside. "Can we not get all mushy? Wearing this suit is bad enough. I don't need you crying on my shoulder or anything like that."

"Nobody will ever accuse you of being too sentimental."

"And I'd like to keep it that way. Help me with this beard and stuff. It's not like I can see what I'm doing here." John arranges the beard on my face and the wig on my head until I finally push him away. "Were you a hairdresser in another life? Enough already!"

"Here, you can't forget this." John shoves a hat down over my head and stands back to survey the results. His face splits into a grin. "Not bad, Bobby. You might have a career in this if the junkyard ever goes belly up."

"Shut up and give me that bag."

John hands over the toy bag. "Just remember, Santa is supposed to be jolly."

"Ho, ho, ho." I reply grudgingly. "Let's get this over with."

Deep down inside, where I'll never admit it to anyone but myself, I'm thrilled to give the boys the Christmas they deserve but damn if I'll ever act like I'm happy about in front of John Winchester. It's better for us both if he thinks he owes me, otherwise I'll be hearing jokes about this for the rest of eternity….or until I shoot him, whichever comes first.

As we enter the house I let out a loud: "Ho, ho, ho." John gives me the thumbs up while trying to smother a laugh. He fails miserably.

I hear footsteps on the stairs and wonder if the boys will even attempt to come down. Sam knows he's supposed to be asleep but he's also curious enough to want to see Santa. As we enter the library, I see two heads peeking around the corner. When they see their dad, there's no stopping them. They both come barreling into the room and Santa is almost forgotten.

"Daddy, I knew you'd be here!" cries Sam.

John ruffles his youngest son's hair. "And how did you know that?"

"Because I asked him to bring you!" Sam points at me and suddenly becomes very shy. "Hi Santa. You remembered."

"Of course, I remembered. I wouldn't forget something like that." I pat Sam on the head, as Dean gives me a suspicious look but I know he's not going to spoil anything for his little brother. He wants this Christmas to be just as perfect as John does.

"Santa, you got anything in that bag there for these boys?" asks John. He sits on the couch and pulls Sam into his lap. Dean plops down beside him, so close you couldn't get something between them if you tried. God help the person who tries.

"I think I might have a thing or two." I dig into the bag and grab hold of a package. "Now, are we sure these boys have been good?"

Dean rolls his eyes as if I might be pouring it on a bit thick but Sam is looking at his father for confirmation that he's been a good boy.

"Yeah, I can vouch for them. They've been really good this year." John glances at Dean, who smiles broadly in spite of himself.

"Well, then, here you go, boys. Merry Christmas!" I hand the boys their presents and retreat from the room. I want to get out of this monkey suit and enjoy the boys opening their presents but before I can get out the front door, I feel a tug on my pant leg. I turn around and find Sam gazing up at me in adoration. He throws his arms around my legs and grins up at me.

"Thank you, Santa."

"You're welcome, Sam."

As Sam hurries back to his father, I wipe at my eyes.

Damn Santa hair is getting in my eyes. That's my story and I'm stickin' to it.

"Hey, what did I miss?"

"Uncle Bobby, Santa was here!" Sam immediately launches into an unrestrained babble about what happened while I was gone.

"Did you see Santa as he was leaving?" asks Dean, a sly smile on his face.

"Nope. He's a sneaky fellow. Good at his job." Once again Dean rolls his eyes and I begin to laugh.

"What's funny, Uncle Bobby?" asks Sam.

"I'm just happy, Sam. That's all. So, what did Santa bring you?"

Sam has his things spread out on the floor and I see some books and army men, along with the fruit and candy I grabbed out of the kitchen. Dean is holding something in his hand.

"Whatcha got there, boy?"

Dean holds up a small box of ammo. "Dad says he's going to take me shooting soon!"

I give John a look but keep my thoughts to myself. He was right in thinking Santa wouldn't approve of the gift. I don't. I'd just like to see them be boys a little longer. I glance over at the tree and notice the package Dean placed there still hasn't been unwrapped.

"Sam, I think there's something else under the tree for you."

Sam runs over to the tree but seems hesitant to take the package. "Are you sure it's mine? It might be yours, Uncle Bobby."

"Nah, I don't think Santa brings anything to old coots like me. Go on, open it."

Sam doesn't need any more prodding. He tears the wrapping from the box of Legos, squeals with delight and runs to his brother. "Look, Dean, just like I wanted!"

"That's awesome, Sammy!" Sam scrambles up on the couch and dumps the box open in his brother's lap.

"Will you help me build something?"

"Sure, Sammy."

Sam picks out some of the colorful blocks and begins putting them together. He looks around at the rest of us and says: "Can we sing a Christmas song?"

"I don't think anyone wants to hear me sing, Sam." I laugh at the thought but Sam puts the puppy dog eyes on full power and I'm helpless to say no.

"Works every time," says John.

"What?" Sam asks innocently.

"Never mind. You'll figure it out soon enough," replies John. "What would you like to sing?"

Sam looks thoughtful for a moment and I expect him to bust out Jingle Bells or Rudolph but instead he starts singing in his sweet little boy voice: "Joy to the world….."

We try to sing along but Sam ends up knowing more words of the song than any of the rest of us, which should probably be embarrassing to the adults in the room, so we give up and listen to Sam finish out the song. He only knows one verse but he sings it twice and it's probably just about the most beautiful thing I've ever heard. There's nothing more pure than a child singing from the heart and Sam has one of the best hearts I've ever seen. I glance over at his big brother, who is smiling proudly and I know where Sam got that heart. Sam's been looking up to Dean ever since he was old enough to crawl and Dean just spent the only money he had on a gift for his little brother, never receiving any credit for himself. Those boys are gonna grow up and be great men, I'm sure of it.

When Sam finishes the song, he looks around the room and says, "This is the best Christmas ever!"

I have to agree.

Thanks for reading! Comments are welcome and always appreciated!

I hope you all have the best Christmas ever!