Twelve Days of Christmas: A Supernatural Story

Third Day of Christmas: 2007

Saying this Christmas was just like any other person's Christmas would be like saying Dean and Sam were just normal everyday kind of people. Nearly being eaten by two crazed pagan gods isn't exactly the definition of a 'Merry Christmas'. Sam and Dean had bandaged their wounds and Sam had healed some of his scars brought about by Christmases long ago. He knew that his brother was trying to make the holiday special, especially this one. Dean's last two attempts weren't exactly 'photo worthy', but they had been better than many he had before.

Sam pretended to watch the game, but he was really wasn't. Dean was captivated, not noticing his brother eyes on him. Sam was perceptive, and he could easily see the façade for what it was: Dean trying to pretend that this wasn't his final Christmas and he wasn't going to die.

But he was. He was going to die and Sam was going to have to live without him. Christmas would soon be just another day without Dean.

Tears threatened to break free. Two different hells were what waited for both the brothers, and this was Sam's last Christmas before that happened.

Dean seemed to finally sense his brother's headlight stare that shined on him, and it's watery film.

"You 'kay?"

Sam smiled.
"Yeah. It's just my nail. Hurts like...," the word he was going to use fell away, and he replaced it with a less heavy phrase,"...like a bitch."

Dean was oblivious to Sam's screw up.
"Yeah, sorry about that man. It'll grow back...eventually."

"...yeah."

Dean returned to watching the game. Sam did as well, but he wasn't taking any of it in.

This was the worst feeling. They were running out of time, and here they were drinking (extremely alcoholic) nutmeg and watching sport. Sam wanted to get out there and find some demon who would help him get the contract. Ruby came to mind, but he still didn't fully trust her. But if she had a way to kill Lilith, then he was all ears.

Sam felt the weight of time pushing down on him, and he knew it would be worse for Dean; fire and brimstone must be heavy on his mind.

Sam was deep in thought when Dean addressed him.
"I know what you're thinking Sam, and I know it sucks. But if you keep thinking about it, the last Christmas you'll remember with me will just be darkened by what you're feeling right now. I know you are scared man. So am I. It's hard. Please, let me have this Christmas. Let yourself have this Christmas. That's all I ask, man."

Sam smiled, a weak and sad line on his face.
"I don't want to lose this."

"Hopefully you won't have to. But if it is, make it a good as it can be. Come on, the game is nearly finished."

Sam nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat.
"Okay."

They watched the end of the game, and when it ended, they retired to their beds. This Christmas had been painful, in more ways than one. Dean wished it wasn't his last. 
The night deepened as they fell into fitful sleeps. Sam dreamed of his brother's empty eyes, and Dean dreamed of fire and darkness.

And thus ended the third day of Christmas.