So, I wasn't planning on posting this on fanfic, but I was in the Christmas mood, so here it is!! thanks for all the awesome reviews over the year, they have meant a lot to me!! bambers;)

And So This is Christmas . . . .

Sam stood looking out the window of yet another no named motel in a long line of no named motels, lost in thought. The motel backed up to a forest of pines, a fresh blanketing of snow covered the tree branches and shimmered beautifully in the moonlight.

He knew there was supposed to be something about Christmastime that should fill him with renewed hope, but to him it was just one day closer to the day Dean would leave him forever. Dean's last Christmas. There was just something so wrong about the sound of that. And yet, had Dean ever really had a real Christmas? Or had Sam for that matter?

Truthfully, the answer was no, but Sam planned on changing that. If it was to be their last Christmas together as brothers, it would be perfect. Not the normal Winchesters eating leftovers from some crappy diner while planning their next hunt kind of Christmas that had been their life for as long as Sam could remember. This would be a Christmas that Dean would never forget.

Behind Dean's back, he'd been making plans for weeks, arranging everything perfectly. Even this motel out in the middle of nowhere had been a part of his plan. Along with making sure they only had enough gas to get them to his intended destination.

"Sam?" the sound of Dean's voice broke in on Sam's thoughts. "You ready to go?"

"Yeah, all packed," Sam said, gathering his stuff together, and headed for the door. "I'll drive, the place is kinda hard to find even during the day, an' will be a real bitch at night."

"So, this vengeful spirit only attacks on Christmas Eve?" Dean asked, not even bothering to argue with Sam over who drove, and Sam could hear a slight note of sadness in his tone. "Was really kinda hopin' . . . well, it would've been nice to spend my last Christmas not being hurtled through the air by some damn spirit."

"I know, but if we don't get him now . . . ." Sam's voice trailed off, hating to lie to Dean, but prayed he would understand when all was said and done.

"Yeah, not like Christmas was ever anything special anyway." Dean trudged to the door with his head lowered, opened it and headed toward the Impala.

"My thoughts exactly," Sam muttered under his breath, and followed after Dean.

Dean opened the trunk, threw his gear inside, handed Sam the keys and walked over to the passenger's side and got in. Sam stood there and watched Dean for a moment, noting how rigidly he sat in his seat, and raked his hand through his hair as he looked at the pine trees in the distance.

Fear of what was to come was beginning to take hold on Dean, and all Sam could do was stand at his side and let him know he was there for him. To Sam, it was like watching his brother dying of some terminal illness, and it tore at his heart and soul to see his brother trying to be brave. And yet he knew all-the-while that Dean's well placed walls were crumbling around him as time quickly ran out on him.

Sam slammed the trunk a little harder than he'd intended, strode to the driver's slide, and slid behind the wheel. "You okay, Dean?" he asked, seeing Dean's hands tremble slightly as he scrubbed his hand across his face, then rubbed his eyes.

"Just was wonderin' why people think there's somethin' so damn special about Christmastime."

"Guess cause it's the one time of the year when people are supposed to put aside their differences and show those they care about how much they love them."

"Think if people did that all year round maybe we wouldn't be out huntin' vengeful spirits instead of having our own Christmas."

"Huh, you're probably right." Sam put the key in the ignition, started the car, and revving the engine, pulled out of the parking spot and headed out onto the road.

He hadn't been lying when he said the small out-of-the-way lodge was going to be hard to find at night. The winding road, curved dangerously, the car's tires slipping and sliding on the icy blacktop. As a light snow began to fall once again, Sam turned on the windshield wipers, a genuinely happy smile gracing his face as he thought that for once his luck was holding out. It was as if some higher power knew that to make this night perfect there needed to be snow, and had made it happen especially for Dean.

"Want me to drive, Sammy?" Dean asked as the snow began to fall more rapidly.

"Naw, we're almost there, probably just another five minutes or so."

Sam kept his sights trained to the right, looking for the turn off as he knew it was nestled amongst the trees. Up ahead he saw the driveway that headed straight up a hill that he'd determined was perfect for sledding. Although, Sam had never actually gone sledding before he figured it was something Dean should at least try once. He had bought two sleds only a few days before, hoping to persuade his brother into it. A chuckle escaped his lips imagining them both on sleds like two little kids, and just hoped Dean wouldn't think it was a stupid idea.

He pulled into he driveway, and drove up the shoveled path to the log cabin lodge. From the distance, Sam could see no lights were on inside the home, but knew shortly there would be. He veered off into a parking spot at the side of the house, and wondered briefly where Bobby had parked his truck.

Getting out of the car, Sam went around to the trunk, opened it, and grabbed out the things he knew he would need for a hunt so Dean wouldn't suspect anything. "You coming, Dean," he called out when he noticed his brother still sitting in the car.

"Yeah," Dean said as he slowly slid out of the vehicle. "Was just thinkin'."

"About what?"

"Just that I'm sorry I never gave you a really good Christmas, Sam." Dean swallowed hard as he looked around at the secluded cabin. "Should've tried to do that at least once."

"Don't say that, Dean. We were always together and that's what matters." Sam slung his duffel over his shoulder, and strode toward the cabin. "Think that's the real point of Christmas . . . being with the people you care most about. All the other stuff really doesn't matter."

"Yea, but I should've — "

"Should've what, Dean? Been a better brother? Took better care of me? Don't worry about it, you have it all covered in spades. Don't think there's ever been a better brother in all the world than you." Sam shrugged, then turned to pick the lock on the front door although he had the key in his pocket. "An' I don't really think I need trees, toys and Santa Claus to tell me how much you've always been there for me."

The door swung open with a subtle creak. Dean took the lead, entering the home with gun in hand, just as Sam knew he would. Sam stood back for a moment, allowing Dean to move further into the room, and then he headed over to the light switch. With a flip of the switch, a seven-foot tall Christmas tree lit up the darkness with glistening white splendor. Sam flicked on another switch, and multicolored lights came on outside the home.

"Sammy, What the hell are you doing?"

Sam was silent for a moment as he saw the perplexed expression crossing Dean's features, and then he bent and plugged in several plugs into the electrical outlet. Twinkling white lights intermingled with greenery lit up the banister and also along the mantle of the fireplace.

He turned to look at all the decorations he had set up for Dean, and a smile settled on his face. "This is for you, Dean."

"What are you talkin' about?" Dean said as he swung to look at all the decorations, perfectly placed around the cabin, then turned back to stare at Sam.

"Did this for you . . . figured if anyone deserved a Christmas it was you."

Dean looked long and hard at Sam, then turned to stare at all the presents under the tree. "S-so there's no vengeful spirit?" he managed to choke out as he rubbed his eyes.

"Not unless it's the ghost of Christmas presents." Sam chuckled.

Dean walked over to the fireplace, and lightly touched a stocking with his name on it, then his fingers trailed over the fresh cut pine boughs running the length of the mantle. "Sammy, don't know what to say."

"Say you'll go sledding with me later, bought two freakin' awesome sleds and am dying to try them."

"Why would you do this?"

"Don't be mad, Dean, just figured it was my turn to do something for you for a change."

"Not mad . . . it's just that I should have done this for you." Dean turned to look at Sam, unshed tears brimming in his green eyes. "Thanks, Sammy."

"Don't mention it," Sam headed over to where Dean was, grabbed the matches off the mantle, crouched down and lit a fire in the fireplace. "The place is all ours for the week, thought maybe we could use the break."

"How did you manage to do all this?" Dean gestured around the room, and then to the lights strung outside.

"Had a little help." Sam smiled as he looked toward the kitchen, and as if on cue they both heard someone open the back door of the cabin.

Within a few moments, a man strode into the room, wearing a red Santa suit, with a black belt and boots to match. Slung over his back was a dark green sack with more presents sticking out of the top. Scratching at his fake white curling beard, Bobby grumbled, "Ho, Ho, Ho, Merry freakin' Christmas."

"Damn, Bobby," Sam chuckled, "that wasn't how we practiced it."

"When we practiced it, I didn't really think ya were actually serious that I was gonna have to where a Santa suit."

"What would Christmas be without Santa, Bobby?" Sam laughed all the harder hearing the older hunter grumbling under his breath.

"Would've been a better Christmas if you had dressed up as Santa. This freakin' beard itches like hell." Bobby gestured toward the stairs, and grumbled, "Goin' upstairs to change then you two knuckleheads can open up yer presents." Bobby dropped the heavy sack, and trudged toward the stairs.

"Bobby," Dean called out to him, and he turned back and as he did, Dean snapped of several pictures with the camera on his cell phone. "Too damn priceless not to have a few pictures cause no one is ever gonna believe this without them."

"I want a few copies, Dean."

"Sure thing, Sammy."

"Ever show anyone those pictures, an' I'll have to kick yer ass, Dean." They both chuckled as Bobby headed upstairs, cussing under his breath as he went.

Dean fell silent as he once again looked around the room, a faint smile on his face. "So this is Christmas . . . ." he said in a low voice, almost as if he didn't want Sam to here it. With a nod of approval, his grin deepened, "Just like I'd always imagined it should be." Clapping Sam on the back, he bobbed his head toward the door. "Come on, Sammy, let's go sledding."