I'm so sorry. I posted the wrong end to this story. I'm deeply sorry. Thanks to those who corrected me!

Dean turned slowly and allowed his senses to guide him. The air didn't' feel especially cold or still on his skin, and the sounds of the house were still all around him, and he didn't smell any kind of sulfur, but that didn't stop him from pulling the knife that was in his boot, and approaching the door from the side.

"Who is it?" he called holding the knife at his hip.

"Boy, let me in." Came a gruff and frustrated voice. Dean knew that voice. He looked through the peep hole and saw Bobby. Dean licked his lips, and opened the door slowly.

"Bobby? What are you doing here?" Dean asked after a moment of starring at the elder hunter.

"It's Christmas. Thought I would visit on my way to New York."

"New York?"

"There's a vampire nest out there that needs taken care of."


"Boy, are you going to let me in or not?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, yeah." Dean stepped away from the door, keeping the knife close to his hip. Bobby walked inside the house, into the devil's trap that was underneath the door, and through it, and Dean breathed a little easier.

"Trap under the rug?" Bobby asked as he turned.


"Good man." Dean smiled. Bobby stepped forward and embraced the younger man.

"What are you doing here?" Dean asked again trying to catch him off guard, forcing him to tell the truth.

Bobby shrugged. "Headed to New York for a hunt."

"And you stopped?"

"It is Christmas."

"Bobby…" Dean said disbelievingly.

"Okay fine. Your phone call worried me a little. You happy?"

"Are we having a chick flick moment?"

"Hey!" Bobby said in a chastising tone. "I seem to remember you initiating several chick flick moments in the year before…" The unsaid words seemed to take on a life of their own, becoming like one of the many invisible nasties they hunt, and wrapping itself around them and squeezing tighter and tighter until Bobby took a breath.

"Well, I also wanted to give you your Christmas present."

Dean's brow knit together. "Present?"

"Yeah you knuckle head. It's Christmas. It's what people do."

"But we've never…."

Bobby shrugged. "I saw this and I thought of you. Thought you would like to have it. Come on. It's in the car." Bobby turned and went back into the cold Indiana night, and Dean followed behind confused.

When they approached the car, the car door opened, and Dean had the knife back out in an instant, and as soon as the thing was out of the car, Dean had the knife at it's throat. He looked up and his body stiffened. The thing looked like Sam.

"What? You figured a way out of your cage?" Dean growled through his clenched teeth.

"No, Dean it's me. It's really me." Dean's eyes shifted slightly to Bobby, and the older hunter nodded.

"It is him." Dean looked back into his brother's face. He backed away, the knife falling with a clatter onto the frozen concrete.


"It's me Dean." Dean with purpose and gravity moved into his brother and hugged him with a ferocity that even when he had restored Sam to the living he hadn't had.

"Merry Christmas Dean." Bobby said. Dean, held onto his brother, his tears, his worries, and his fears. Right that second he wanted to bask in the glow that there really and truly was such a thing as Christmas miracles and that men with the last name of Winchester were finally able to have one.