Summary: Sam and Dean receive a Christmas gift from a very unexpected source and it's certainly not something that either is happy over. / Startled/Wary Sam! and Dean!
Warnings/Spoilers: None really though some stuff from Season 8 is mentioned. Set before the mid-season finale. There is some mild language.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or anything. This is just wrote for fun.
Author Note: Happy Holidays to one and all. It's been awhile since I did anything new. Computer issues so stories may be sparse while I work thru that. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this little holiday piece that shows what my brain will think of while hyped on cold medication for a sinus infection. Enjoy.
SPN SPN SPN SPN
"I did shoot it."
"If you shot it already then why is it sitting there looking like it wants to eat us?"
"Probably because when I shot it, the…thing absorbed the bullets. Now you kill it!"
Having to step back and scratch his head at this turn of events, Dean Winchester kept staring at the strange but menacing looking thing that had turned up in the backseat of his beloved 1967 Chevy Impala that morning.
"Where in the hell did it come from anyway?" he demanded with more than a little exasperation, deciding to take a step toward the item sitting on the hood then just as quickly thought better of it. "I mean, it's not like we're parked in a motel or someplace where Fed-Ex can find us. We're literally driving through the road to no where. Plus, who the hell would send us something like…that?"
Still debating on informing his brother of the slight damage the thing in question had done to the back when he was trying to get it out to put it onto the trunk, Sam Winchester shrugged while holding out a card he'd found attached.
"Crowley did I think," he replied, not needing to be looking at his older brother to know he was probably receiving on of Dean's patented 'Are you serious' looks. "The card says he hopes we have a Merry Christmas and he'll be seeing us next year…if we're still alive."
Having just gotten back to hunting with Sam after spending a year stuck in Purgatory, Dean knew he and his brother were still readjusting to things and that they had other issues to work out but of all things that may be wrong with him Dean was fairly certain he hadn't lost his hearing and that Sam could not have just said what he thought he had.
"Crowley?" he repeated in the low deep tone he usually reserved for when he was well and truly pissed as he switched from eyeing the 'gift' to staring at his brother and trying to ignore the beginnings of Sam's puppy dog eyed look that almost always got to him. "The same Crowley who is the new goddamn King of Hell? The same Crowley who has been trying to kill us since he met us? The very same Crowley who has the other half of the God-stone we need to send his kind back to Hell? The very same Crowley, King of Hell, who chopped the finger off of our Prophet? That same sonuvabitch sent us that?"
Sam waited until Dean had paused to take a breath before scuffing the toe of his boot in the small of amount of snow that had fallen during the night, coughing. "Umm, yeah., same guy," he acknowledged then jerked his head toward the Impala. "The thing ate the bullets, Dean then it tried to eat my gun. It's the holiday gift from Hell…literally."
Struggling to not grin at that small pun, Dean once again turned his attention to the 'gift' that had been sent their way. "Ooo-kay," he blew out a breath while considering what he was seeing as their only option. "Got your lighter on you?"
"Huh?" distracted by what he was pretty sure was low growling coming from somewhere inside the 'gift', Sam blinked while automatically reaching into his pocket. "Yeah. Why? What will…Dean?"
Grabbing for a long branch that was laying along the roadside, Dean hoped it was long enough and wouldn't be lunch. "Just toss the lighter when I say and…I'll buy you a new one cause I doubt if you'll want that one back," he replied, not giving his brother a chance to argue or ask a million and twenty questions, Dean gripped the stick tightly before pulling back and swinging it with enough force that it did dislodge Crowley's 'gift' from the Impala's hood. "Now!"
Instincts instilled in his since childhood still surfaced as Sam reacted to his brother's command, tossing his lighter toward the now definitely moving clump of multi colored goop on the ground and felt a strong hand pull him back out of the way of the flames that suddenly seemed to implode out of the 'gift'.
"Huh," Sam eyed the flames, the now clearly melting clump to finally lift his hazel eyes up to see Dean had pulled his handgun just in case it'd been needed. "How'd you know that'd work?" he asked curiously.
Wary about even a burning clump of goop, Dean stared at it for a moment longer before slowly holstering his handgun to then examine his car for gooey damage. "It just made sense really," he finally replied to his brother, looking over his shoulder to see a perfect bitch face aimed it him since it still didn't make sense to Sam why he'd just sacrificed his lighter. "Think about it, Sammy. Fruitcakes are usually made with Rum or some kind of liquor. Figured since Crowley sent it to us it would be loaded with something that we could light up and if shooting the possessed thing didn't work then we'd burn it back to Hell."
"Huh," Sam repeated softly, impressed with that logic but not intending to admit it to his brother just then. "So, did we just salt and burn a fruitcake, Dean?"
"We just lit a possessed fruitcake up, Sam," Dean decided the Impala was good so he could turn his attention to other matters. "Now we're going to salt and burn this thing to be sure then we're going to figure out a way to send Crowley something in return."
Unsure how they could even send something to the new King of Hell much less what his older brother could deem an appropriate gift of revenge for the possessed fruitcake a sudden thought had Sam whirling on his heel. "You can't send Garth to Crowley, Dean!"
"What? He can annoy us but we can't 'Garth' the King of Hell?" Dean tossed back from where he was digging in the trunk for the salt. Grinning from inside the trunk when he heard his brother muttering but also debating with himself, he gave it enough time before tossing the salt out. "Fine, but the next time Mrs. Tran calls about some new idea she's got you're talking to her."
As the Winchesters salted and burned the remains of their Christmas gift from the demon, Dean leaned against the Impala in consideration. This little hiccup had been the first time in a long that he could recall hearing Sam laugh or make oneliners about the growling Dean did upon discovering the damage to the back seat.
Ever since his return from Purgatory and Sam's return to hunting there'd been a strain between them. One that did knew was partly his fault and was something that he planned on hashing out soon. This had been the first thing they'd handled without fighting…or too much fighting since Sam was still put out that he'd lost his lighter and he swore the fruitcake had bit him.
"So we'll get you updated on all your shots, get you a new lighter and find someplace to hang out that maybe you can overdecorate," Dean replied finally, convinced the fruitcake was dead and that it was time to get back on the road. "Maybe I can even find a nice Holiday Barbie to…"
"Shut up…" Sam stopped in mid-sentence as he caught himself about to toss out an old line that had been pretty customary between them before all the issues had come up. "I mean…"
The comment hadn't slipped past Dean as he got behind the wheel without letting on, waiting until he knew Sam was nearly settled in the passenger seat. "Bitch."
"Shut up, jerk," the smile was plain in Sam's voice and the familiar banter relaxed him that he decided not to even bitch about his brother's music choice. "Garth said we could spend Christmas with him and the Trans," he deadpanned, seeing the muscle in Dean's jaw twitch and grinned.
"I'd rather spend it with a hungry Wendigo," Dean growled, hearing his brother laugh and deciding right there that his pain in the ass little brother was getting something hot pink this year. "Hey, Sammy?"
Recognizing the tone from one he'd heard when he'd been a kid, Sam shifted so he could meet the more curious green eyes of his brother. "You're out of Purgatory, Dean. That's what I want this year."
Hating to get hit with the puppy eyes, Dean let it drop while plotting what Sam would be getting this year and deciding that maybe Crowley's holiday horror hadn't been so bad after all…not that he'd ever admit that.