I've been working on this for about a week and meant to have it posted before now. But here it is, Christmas Eve, and I'm finally finished with it. Here is my most humble Christmas gift to all of you. Merry Christmas!

Reviews would truly be most heartwarming as I sit here snuggled in with my kitty versions of Sam and Dean.

Disclaimer: To my everlasting despair, I own nothing related to Supernatural.

TIDINGS OF COMFORT AND JOY

By: Vanessa Sgroi

It was just another little diner on the outskirts of another nondescript small town. Not as rundown as some he'd come across, still the Happy Chance Diner was no great shakes. But it had strands of anemic multi-colored Christmas lights strung across its foggy windows in haphazard randomness, lending a strange cheerfulness to its existence. Still it was a sanctuary of sorts, a warm place with hopefully warm and edible food.

Dean Winchester pulled the Impala in one of the many free angled spaces and pushed the gearshift into Park, sitting for a moment to listen to the tick, tick of the heated engine. Bracing himself, he shoved open the car door, shivering as an arctic blast of wind churned around him. He hurried to the glass door and was greeted by a frayed-looking, but ever jolly cardboard Santa Claus that had seen better days. Dean pushed through the door, stopping just across the threshold to give everything a good once-over.

The place was empty save a lone couple occupying a corner booth and an elderly gentleman seated at the far end of the counter. With a quick glance at the Please Seat Yourself sign, Dean proceeded to do just that eschewing a table or booth for a spot at the counter. He eased himself onto the stool and hooked his booted feet through the silver rung at the bottom before reaching for a plastic-coated menu standing at a drunken tilt in its stand.

The fifty-something waitress with a few gray streaks meandering through her brunette curls pushed through from the kitchen and ambled his way. "Hello there, sugar. Can I get you somethin' to drink?"

Dean's gaze flicked up from the menu and saw her smile. "Coffee." Realizing how gruff he sounded, he tacked on a quick please before dropping his attention back to the menu.

"Comin' right up."

Seconds later, a cream-colored mug dropped in front of him and the waitress filled it with steaming dark liquid from the glass pot in her hand.

"Cream or sugar?"

Dean shook his head, stilling a wayward tongue that automatically wanted to say yes his brother would like some.

"Do you know what you want or do you need another minute?"

He opened his mouth and was about to order his standard cheeseburger with extra onions and fries, but said instead, "Well, I don't know," his eyes flicked to her nameplate and his eyebrows rose in surprise, "Bennie? Really?"

"Yes, really." The waitress grinned. "It's short for Benjamina."

"So, I don't know, Bennie, what would you suggest? What's good around this joint?"

"Well now, Ol' Joe makes a mean Chicken Pot Pie if I do say so myself. For an old coot, he makes heavenly pastry."

"Sold. Chicken Pot Pie it is." Despite his dour mood, Dean couldn't resist returning her smile. "Anything with pie in its name is bound to be good."

"Comes with soup or salad. Today's soups are Tomato Parmesan or Chicken Noodle."

"Eh, I'll be brave and try the Tomato Parm." Dean replied as he returned the menu to its stand.

"Good choice."

Bennie turned away to offer up the order to Ol' Joe while Dean picked up his mug and took a long sip of his hot coffee. It was surprisingly good, and he grunted slightly in appreciation, more used to rotgut sludge that would sear the taste buds into oblivion. He downed several more mouthfuls in succession, grateful when Bennie was there in seconds to top it off.

Dean felt some of the tension he always carried with him ease. With a sigh, he sat up straight, rolled his shoulders, and tilted his head from side-to-side giving the muscles a little stretch.

"Hello there, son."

And like that the tension returned and Dean went on alert. He glanced to the side and saw that the old man from the end of the counter had moved to sit next to him. The hunter scowled at both the address and the proximity.

"Here now, don't get upset that I called you 'son'. I'm an old man—everyone younger than me gets addressed that way. And all the women, I daresay, I call them all 'hun'. Sometimes get that same kinda scowl too." The old man had a merry twinkle in his eye.

Bennie arrived and placed Dean's cup of soup in front of him. "Now Clarence, what're you doin' over here harassing this nice young man?"

"Harassing?" exclaimed Clarence with mock indignation. "Why, Bennie, you know I was just saying hello."

"Ahh, never mind your helloes and let the poor boy eat. He certainly looks like he could use a good meal or two."

Dean watched the exchange and felt an inkling of amusement at the bickering. He picked up his spoon and carefully tasted the Tomato Parmesan soup. After another quick bite, he looked at Bennie and smiled. "It's good!"

"That's what I like to hear. Now…" Bennie silently prompted him for his name.

"Dean."

"Dean, you finish up—your pot pie should be out soon. Just don't let this old coot talk your ear off in the meantime." With that, the waitress disappeared to take care of some things at the other end of the counter.

The elder Winchester turned toward the elderly man. "So, Clarence—like the angel in that Christmas movie, huh? Seems appropriate right about now."

Clarence chuckled. "I reckon if I WAS like the Clarence in that movie, I'd be a darn sight less…oh, I dunno…bumbling…than that poor fellow. Though he did get the job done in the end though, didn't he?"

Dean shrugged as he finished his soup. He pushed the small bowl away. "Yeah, I guess."

"I suppose if I were that Clarence, I'd do something about your situation."

Dean's shoulders stiffened as he locked his eyes on Clarence. "My situation?"

"Son, I recognize a thousand-yard stare when I see one. You look like you've seen Hell and back a few times over and lived to tell the tale."

"Do I now?"

"Indeed you do. And to be frankly honest, you look mighty lonely sittin' here and not just because you're physically alone. Who is it you miss so powerfully?"

Benjamina chose that moment to swing by and refill both Dean's and Clarence's mugs of coffee. Sensing a bit of tension, her gaze bounced between the two men, a small frown pulling her brows together. "Everything okay here?" To her surprise, it was Dean who responded.

"Everything's fine," Dean assured her.

Bennie informed him his meal was coming up momentarily and slowly walked away.

Clarence shifted on his seat, looking at Dean with consternation. "I'm sorry, son. I don't mean to pry. Truly is a bad habit of mine."

Feeling oddly drawn to this elderly man, Dean surprised himself by answering. "It's my brother. Guess you could say we had a…falling out." Dean snorted. "Actually, that's putting it mildly."

"Surely nothing irreparable."

"I don't know. Maybe. Eventually. If he ever forgives me."

"Forgives you? For what?"

"For something I did. For being me. For coming back. Pick one. Or pick all."

Dean paused to tuck into the food Bennie placed in front of him. Despite his melancholy, he found himself enjoying the meal.

Clarence remained quiet as watched the other man eat. The elderly man let Dean's words sink in and felt his own heart grow heavy. The sorrow he sensed was almost tangible though the young man hid it quite well.

Dean finished quickly and sat back, resisting the urge to pat his belly. He watched Bennie swing by and refill his coffee and whisk away his empty plate simultaneously.

"Can I get you anything else?" she called over her shoulder.

It was Clarence who answered. "Bennie, it's Christmas! Bring the boy a piece of pie." From the corner of his eye, he saw Dean's eyes light up. "And make it a la mode. My treat."

Dean held up a hand and shook his head. "You don't have to do that."

"Eh, don't deny me the pleasure, my boy. I don't get to give much in the way of joy on Christmas anymore."

Bennie returned with a piece of cherry pie, its red juice spilling over onto the white plate making it appear all the more festive. The generous scoop of vanilla ice cream on top added to the allure.

"Don't let him fool you," she said as she sat the pie down in front of Dean. "He claims at least half our cards on that giving tree over there. Fulfills a lot of kids' wishes."

Dean glanced at the small, sparsely decorated Christmas tree to which she pointed. Curiosity piqued, he asked, "What's up with the tree?"

"That's our Give a Gift, Get a Gift tree," responded Bennie. "Each card has a child's name, age, and Christmas gift wish of choice on it. People take a card, buy the gift and bring it back here, and we distribute it tonight after the diner closes. Plus you get a little token thank you gift from our basket in return."

Dean studied the tree. "Why's there one card left?"

"What? There aren't any cards…" Bennie turned to look and her heart sank when she spied a lone card hidden in the branches. She gasped. "Oh, no!" Wiping her hands on her apron, she hurried toward the tree. "Oh, Clarence, we missed one!" Bennie grabbed the green construction paper and brought the card over to them, a distressed look on her face.

"Can I see it?" queried Dean around a mouthful of pie and ice cream.

Clearly upset, Benny handed it over. "Lord above, I feel just terrible. None of us even noticed."

Dean opened the tiny card and read what was printed inside. Sammy. Age 8. Books. How ironic. Dean's heart clenched, a longing for his little brother creeping over him. He cleared his throat. Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out his wallet and extracted a $20, extending it along with the card to Bennie. "Here. If there's still time, maybe you can find the kid some books."

"Clarence?" Bennie held the money and card out to the elderly man.

The gray-haired man stood, shrugged into his coat and wrapped a colorful knit scarf around his neck. He locked eyes with Dean. "There's plenty of time." He began to shuffle past Dean and paused, placing a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Call him."

"He won't answer."

"Then leave a message." With a pat, Clarence shuffled his way out of the diner.

Dean finished his pie and ice cream then asked Bennie for the bill. She shook her head.

"It's on the house, sugar. It's the very least I could do." She reached under the counter and pulled out a small wrapped gift. "Here, I owe you this—it's the Get a Gift part of the Christmas tree."

Dean unwrapped the present, finding a keychain within the confines of the cheery paper. The keychain was a silver star with the word 'Superhero' imprinted on it. He wrapped the gift in his fist and smiled at Bennie. "Hey, I like it! Thanks!" Dean stood to go, pulling on his coat and gesturing toward his empty dessert plate on the counter. "So you're sure we're all good here?"

"Sweetie, we're more than good. I can't thank you enough for noticing that card in the tree. I would've felt just awful if we'd forgotten one of the kids!"

Heart feeling a little bit lighter, Dean made his way out of the Happy Chance Diner and to the Impala, feeling the wind and snow swirl around him. Dropping into the driver's seat, he fished his keys out of his pocket and made quick work of switching all his keys over to the Superhero keychain before inserting the correct key into the ignition and firing up baby. While she warmed up, Dean pulled out his phone, dialing a familiar number.

He waited for the voice mail greeting to pick up, happy to at least hear that familiar voice. At the beep he started. "Uh, hey Sammy. Just wanted to say…um…yeah…you know…Merry Christmas. Okay? That's all. Just Merry Christmas."

FIN