On the first day of Christmas, Dean opened the door to his motel room, tripped over a shrub and got hit in the face by a terrified bird.

"...the fuck?" he managed, remaining on the floor as Sam examined the tiny tree.

"No idea..." Sam dug through the abundant greenery "But hey, free fruit."

The partridge roosted on the TV and squawked whenever they tried to move it.

Sam ate pears. Dean groused about the partridge.

On the second day of Christmas, two turtle doves burst out of the impala's glove compartment. Dean swerved off the road and into a drainage ditch. The pear tree broke through its bindings and fell of the roof.

The partridge pecked Sam in the eye.

On the third day of Christmas, three French hens (distinguishable by their berets) roosted on a sleeping Sam's chest.

He waited for Dean for two hours because any attempt to dislodge them got him pecked.

The turtle doves slept in his shoes, the partridge sat atop the tree, keeping watch.

Sam was starting to feel a bit like he was in a Hitchcock movie.

On the fourth day of Christmas, Sam had to google it, but apparently they were colly birds.

It didn't clear anything up.

Dean reluctantly bought birdseed.

On the fifth day of Christmas, Dean broke a tooth on a cookie that contained five gold rings.

He hocked them for more birdseed and emergency dental treatment.

On the sixth day of Christmas, six geese laid nine eggs in the motel bathroom.

Sam made omelettes.

Dean told the other birds to start pulling their weight.

On the seventh day of Christmas, seven swans fought over Dean's leather jacket.

Swan number three won.

Sam disarmed Dean and showed him a webpage that claimed all swans were the property of the queen of England, and that an international incident was not what they needed right now.

On the eighth day of Christmas, Dean lost all attraction he'd ever had to milkmaids.

All eight of them had cow pox.

On the ninth day of Christmas things started looking up.

But none of the nine ladies, who were rather confused to be dancing at a rodeo in east-Texas, deigned to give either Winchester the time of day.

On the tenth day of Christmas Dean directed a tactical bird-strike on the leaping lords.

It was the most fun he'd had in years.

On the eleventh day of Christmas, eleven pipers woke Dean up at two in the morning.

At Two-twenty nine police arrived at the motel, responding to a report of shots fired.

The brothers had already departed.

On the twelfth day of Christmas, twelve drummers listened to a lengthy lecture on how to recreate zeppelin hits.

They departed in a huff.

On the first day after the world went weird, Dean directed a prayer to Castiel.

I know it's you, you freakin' weirdo, next year just bring pie and nog.

We'll try to 'watch it's a wonderful life' again.

P.S – sorry for calling you Clarence – won't happen again.

P.P.S – One of your swans died – totally Sam's fault.