AN: I'm in a rather silly mood today and sorry that I've been putting off 'Rage,' but I definitely have not been in the right mindset for that. It'll be up soon, I promise! That said, I hope you enjoy my silly little oneshot. This story is dedicated to my best friend, who not only puts up with me, but is always there for me no matter what. So a huge Merry Christmas to her, and to all my readers, as well.

The sound was muffled, but it was there. There was rustling and a couple sighs coming from the bed next to him. But it was the unmistakable glow of the TV that brought Dean out of his sleep, and he cracked a tired eye open, searching the room.

Moaning, he sat up a little, rubbing at his eyes. "Sam what time is it?"

"Five 'O seven," Sam stated, entirely too exact and chipper for the early hour that Dean had just been informed of. Sam's voice was too loud.

Dean sat up completely, shooting an angry glare his brother's direction. Man, the kid went from one extreme to another. He was either silent, emo, and emotional, or he was all chipper, loud, and just plain annoying.. and confusing. Well, either way he was annoying, "Sam."

"Yeah Dean?" Sam answered, still not taking his eyes off of the black and white movie that he had been watching.

Dean's voice went misleadingly sweet, "Can you tell me why exactly you decided to get up at five 'O seven in the morning..." Dean emphasized the time, since Sam had seemed so determined about giving it to him exactly, "And start watching... It's a Wonderful Life?"

"I got up at Four 'O seven, actually," Sam replied, finally taking his eyes off the TV when a commercial graced the screen, "You missed the first hour."

Dean dropped the 'not completely annoyed' act, and huffed, "Sam! It's five in the morning. We have no hunt, as far as I can tell, there's no nasty trying to get in, or choking you to death-" At Sam's confused look at the last statement, Dean went on, "Well, it does happen a lot."

Sam shrugged his shoulders, "It's Christmas."

Dean chuckled without any real humor, "And it'll still be Christmas five hours from now. Just then, it wont be five in the morning and I wont have an overwhelming urge to throw something large and heavy at you."

"You wanna sleep the whole holiday away?" Sam asked, "Besides, you promised after your little hissy fit last night that you wouldn't be an ass on Christmas."

"First of all, you did slam the door to the Impala after I told you not to, and second of all, it was not a hissy fit. It was a simple request, besides that fact that I've told you three thousand times to use your oversized brain to think that maybe it might be bad for the car when you slam the door like that-"

"Being an ass," Sam said quietly in a sing song voice, "On Christmas day..."

"This does not count, it's barely Christmas," Dean gestured to the window, "It's not even light out yet!"

"What kind of screwed up logic is that, it's been Christmas four five hours and eleven minutes."

"I do not need an exact time update, thank you, Sam!" Dean chucked his pillow across the room at Sam's head and Sam took the pillow refusing to give it back. Sam tried to suppress his smirk as his brother grew more and more agitated with him.

It wasn't like this was the first that Sam had woken Dean up early on Christmas. It was like a little brotherly tradition, only Sam was the only one who liked or approved of it. Despite that fact, Dean did not try and go back to sleep, rather got up and made his way to the bathroom while Sam settled back to continue watching his favorite childhood Christmas movie, as a familiar memory came to him.

"Hey Dean," a six year old Sam strolled over to his brother sitting on the couch on Christmas eve.

"Huh?" Dean asked, engrossed in this year's showing of Frank Capra's classic.

"Are angels real?" the little boy asked as he blew a stray piece of too long hair out of his face.

"Nope."

Sam made a face and crossed his arms in front of his chest, "How do you know?"

Dean shrugged, "Ask dad."

Sam 'hmmed' as he climbed onto the couch next to his brother, "Hey Dean."

Huffing, Dean turned his attention to his sibling, "What?"

"If we had a guardian angel what do you think it would look like?" Sam asked.

Dean pointed to the television, directing Sammy's gaze, "That," he replied as Sam cocked his head to the side, "His name's Clarence."

"Liar," Sam accused, "Angels are girls. And they have wings. That's a boy and he doesn't have any wings."

Dean shook his head, "Not all angels are girls. There are boy angels, too, and Clarence just hasn't gotten his wings yet. He has to earn 'em."

"Thought you said angels weren't real," Sam replied.

"You asked if we had a guardian angel what I thought it would...-" Dean huffed in annoyance, as Sam grinned mischeviously and decided to ignore the comment.

A few moments of silence and then, "Hey Dean?"

"WHAT?" came Dean's exasperated reply.

"Why would Clarence be our guardian angel?"

Dean shrugged, "Cause he's always makin' mistakes."

Sam nodded his head, not quite sure what that meant, but not willing to let his brother see that, "Ohh."

Sam chuckled a little at the memory as Dean emerged from the shower. He looked slightly less peeved and Sam thought it might be a good idea to ask him now.

"What do you wanna do today?" he asked, innocent enough question with just enough little brother behind it.

Dean looked at him, thoughtfully, "Well, seeing as it is a holiday, I was going to sleep in..."

"We go through this every year, Dean, sleeping in on Christmas is not an option," Sam said with a grin, "So don't be such a scrooge."

Dean's face broke into a grin at the mention of the name. Ebenezer Scrooge, the main character in Charles Dickens' classic, A Christmas Carol.

"What?" Sam asked, glancing at himself in the mirror, just to be sure Dean's laughter wasn't on his account.

"Scrooge," Dean replied, "You don't remember do you?"

Sam thought for a minute before shrugging his shoulders, "No clue what you're talking about, Dean."

"You were six," Dean started, "Your school was putting on A Christmas Carol for the Christmas play that year."

Then Sam remembered and groaned at the trip down memory lane. So the laughter had been at his expense, just a younger him.

Dean ignored him and continued, "And guess who your teacher decided to cast as Mr. Scrooge?"

"Me," Sam grumbled.

Dean's grin grew wider as he put a hand to his ear, "Couldn't quite hear that, Sammy? Who?"

"Me."

Nodding his head, Dean continued, "That's right, they cast Tiny Tim himself."

"Dean-"

"Don't stop me, Sammy, I'm on a roll," he said as he flopped down on one of the beds, throwing the towel he had been using to dry his wet hair onto the floor, "Besides it is Christmas. A time to remember all the good times. And boy did I have a good time watching that..."

"Dean, come ON!" little Sammy urged as he pushed his brother out the door, "We're gonna be late!"

Dean rolled his eyes playfully as he locked up their motel room door and fell into step beside his eager little brother, "Relax Mr. Scrooge, they can't start the play without you."

But Sam's attention was already somewhere else entirely as his legs carried him faster through the snow, "Guess they can't. My teacher said I'm the lead character."

"You are."

"How do you know, the play hasn't even started yet," Sam pointed out.

Dean laughed, "I've watched it on TV."

Sam's mouth fell open, "They did one without me? And put it on TV?"

Dean laughed again at his brother's expense, "No doofus, the play's been around for like a million years."

Sam seemed to contemplate that for a moment, before nodding his head, his mouth formed in a silent 'O.'

"You even know your lines?" Dean asked as they trudged up to the doors to their school.

"'Course I do," Sam replied indignantly, but knew he hadn't even read them since his teacher gave them to him. Even then he'd been so excited that he just kinda skimmed, "'Sides, Ms. Brocker said we could use our scrimps."

"Scripts," Dean corrected with an eye roll.

"Whatever."

"Dean where's dad?" Sam asked.

"I told you, he's away on business, but he'll be back tomorrow."

"Did you tell him about my play?" Sam asked, "Cause you promised you would."

"Yep," Dean replied nonchalantly, "But the business was more important Sammy."

Sam looked upset, before asking, "What kind of business?"

Dean faltered for a minute before shrugging again. He wasn't going to tell Sammy. Not yet. He was too young, he'd be afraid... Luckily Sam let it drop once they reached the school.

They walked into the auditorium where proud parents, obnoxious siblings, and the anxious students waited. Sam bounded up to his teacher who quickly ushered him away, asking where he had been.

Sam threw a look to Dean over his shoulder, one that Dean knew as a silent 'I told you so.' Dean stuck his tongue out and took a seat.

"Break a leg, Sammy!" Dean called and at Sam's shocked expression he almost doubled over in laughter, "Figure of speech. Means good luck!"

Sam nodded as he was brought back stage. Dean waited and soon the lights where being dimmed and music began to play. The children appeared on the stage and among them was Sammy, donned in clothing appropriate for the time period, and a microphone fastened to his shirt and Dean couldn't suppress a little laugh at the sight. Wasn't his fault, but he did look funny.

The children began reading their lines. The speech had been reinterperated and made into a more child friendly version of the play, and things were going rather smoothly... That is, until Sam began.

Two boys that were Sam's age came up to him and read slowly from their scripts, "Hello sir. We are collecting money for the poor who are very hungry and we would... appre- ciate," the boys stumbled over the word, and Dean knew Sam wouldn't have, "If you would give a little of yours."

Sam looked down at his script, realizing it was his line. He frowned but read it anyway, "No. I do not care to be bothered," Sam replied to the boys, "And I do not care if they are starving. Now go away."

One of the boys piped up, "They could die!"

Sam's eyes widened as he looked down at his script, "Let them! Maybe that way the world wouldn't be so..." Sam didn't finish the last word 'crowded,' but instead walked up to his teacher pointing at the script.

The microphone still on, the crowd could hear as Sam whispered to his teacher. "I don't wanna say this!"

The teacher frowned down at him concerned, "Why not, Sam? You were doing such a good job!"

Sam looked at her like she was speaking Chinese, "Because it's mean!" The crowd erupted into giggles and Sam turned to face them, not really knowing why they were laughing.

"Well, that is true, but the character is supposed to be mean," the teacher said sweetly, "He doesn't care if people are hungry, sweetie. It's just a play."

"But I care if people are hungry!" Sam replied, "When I'm hungry my brother gives me dinner, he doesn't just let me starve!" Dean laughed out loud at the statement as did a few members of the crowd.

Sam's classmates however, stared angrily at him, waiting for him to come back.

Ms. Brocker looked like she was at a loss, before supplying, "He gets nicer later. You just have to wait and see."

Sam's face lit up, "Can't we just skip to that part?"

This time Ms. Brocker had to work to suppress a laugh, "No Sam. We can't just skip to that part. The other students want their chances to say some lines, too. Somebody else wrote this, and just because you say the lines doesn't mean you really are mean. It's called acting."

Sam pursed his lips in silent contemplation, "Like Dean does when he doesn't wanna go to school?"

By this time the crowd was in fits of laughter, all listening adoringly to the cute child on the stage.

Ms. Brocker sighed, "Yes, kinda like that."

Sam smiled a little, and walked away from his teacher, "Alright I can do that." It was only now that he noticed the crowd laughing and he looked at them like they were crazy.

He shook his head. Sometimes, adults could act so childish. He waved at Dean before continuing on with the play. This time, it went well, except for the couple of times Sam tried to improvise, because he didn't think it should be "THAT mean," as he had put it to the audience...

"Oh God, Sammy, if only dad had been there," Dean replied still chuckling. Sam had joined in, now, his smile lighting up his whole face for what seemed like the first time in a long time, "You were a bleeding heart even as a six year old!"

"Yeah, well you were an insensitive jerk even as a ten year old!" Sam shot back, "I remember. You made fun of me the whole way back to the motel."

Dean grinned fondly at his younger brother, "Well, what can I say? Best interpretation of the play ever. Don't think Charles could have done it better himself."

After the boys had stopped laughing, a comfortable silence setting in, Dean broke it, "What do you say we get some food, throw back a few beers and watch some of those pansy Christmas movies you seem to like so much? Hell, let's get a tree."

Sam shot his brother a confused look, "Really?"

Dean nodded his head, "Yeah. I mean, it is our last Christmas toge-"

"Shut up, Dean. Don't say it, don't you dare say it," Sam had suddenly turned angry and his face held so much grief that Dean dropped it and held up his hands in surrender.

"It's not. We're gonna have lots of Christmases," Sam continued, shaking his head in denial. He sighed a little, trying to calm himself down.

Dean smiled sadly, "Alright Sam, Im sorry, you're right."

Sam nodded his head determindly, clearing his throat, "Okay come on, let's get some food. I'm thinking turkey."

"You can make turkey?" Dean asked as he followed behind his younger brother.

"I can microwave something that tastes like turkey," Sam replied with a grin.

Dean laughed, sliding into his beloved Impala, "Works for me."

As they passed a church, almost as if on cue, carols started playing from the bells.

Sam looked over at his brother, "Everytime a bell rings, an angel gets his wings," he said, "Maybe our guardian angel finally got his."

Smirking, Dean looked over at Sam who's Christmas antics had succeeded in distracting him from his screwed up, short life for this special day. "Bah, humbug," Dean replied, as he turned on the radio and blasted some rock version of the classic jingle bells.

Sam shook his head and smiled. Leave it up to Dean.

Well, hope you liked it, thanks so much for reading! MERRY CHRISTMAS!