The Best Gift Ever

Disclaimer: As 2008 draws to a close, I see that I still don't own the Winchesters.

A/N: I've been snowed in for 13 days, but it's finally starting to melt! Merry Christmas, everyone!

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Love is a gift. You can't buy it, you can't find it, someone has to give it to you. Learn to be receptive of that gift.

- Kurt Langner -

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"This is crap."

Dean Winchester stood at the window in the latest in a series of bad motel rooms watching as the snow fell outside. He and his brother had been on their way to South Dakota to spend Christmas with Bobby, but it had gotten too dangerous to drive and they'd been forced to find a place to stay.

Sam looked at his brother from over the top of his book.

Except for the previous year, they hadn't celebrated Christmas since they were kids. Dean had wanted to do something special since it was to be his last Christmas, but Sam hadn't been able to face it. He didn't want to think about life without his brother and celebrating the holiday after not doing it for so long seemed wrong to him. That, and his bad memories of childhood Christmases, was too hard to deal with.

Truth be told, not all Christmases were bad; some of them were even pretty good. But not the one when Sam was nine. He'd found their father's journal and learned what he really did when he left them alone. Their dad was a hunter of supernatural monsters; things that weren't supposed to be real. Sam had felt betrayed by the deception and disappointed that he hadn't made it back to celebrate Christmas.

That's what he'd taken away from the last Christmas they ever really had: disappointment, sadness and horrible betrayal. But he'd remembered something the year before after Dean asked to have a real Christmas. He remembered how hard Dean had tried to make it a good day for him all those years before. While he slept, his brother had gone out and gotten some decorations and presents – sure he'd stolen them from a house down the street, but his motives had been good.

Even now the memory of Dean's attempt made Sam smile.

"Maybe there's a movie on," Sam said.

"Yeah, some holiday feel-good movie," Dean grumbled, still staring out the window. "Maybe it's not too bad out there."

"Dean, it's a white-out. Face it; we're here for a while."

Dean sighed and flopped down on his bed. Sam watched as he snatched the television remote from the nightstand between the beds and flipped through the stations, not even pausing long enough to really see what was on.

"This is no way to spend Christmas Eve."

"How about cards?" Sam asked, tossing his book aside.

Dean glanced at him. "I'm already making you crazy, huh?"

"No," Sam swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Not yet. I'll get the cards; I think they're in the car."

Sam came back in a few minutes later and shook the snow off of his coat before walking through the doorway. As he did, the lights flickered and then went out.

"Great," Dean groused. "Just great!"

Sam looked took a few steps back into the parking lot and looked around.

"Hey, the place down the street still has lights on," he called through the open door.

"What the hell?" Dean sighed and pulled on his coat and boots.

---

"Another holiday at Denny's, huh, Sammy?" Dean said sadly as he and Sam took a seat in the last empty table in the place. "I'm sorry. I was hoping –"

"Dean, man, you don't have anything to be sorry for. You can't control the weather."

"I guess."

Their server came by, introduced herself and took their drink order. Dean was a compulsive flirter, even with waitresses almost old enough to be his grandmother, but he barely acknowledged her presence.

After she came back with sodas, they each ordered a traditional turkey meal. Sam wasn't a big fan of yams and pushed his off onto Dean's plate without even asking.

"Thanks," Dean said, looking at him briefly.

Sam tried every trick he knew, but at the end of the meal, Dean was still in an awful mood. He wasn't lashing out, but instead had fallen into a morose quiet. Sam knew he was disappointed about not being able to get to Bobby's for Christmas, but he hadn't realized it meant so much to him.

After they finished eating, Sam excused himself and went to the men's room. He paused on his way back to look out the window. He could see lights on at their motel again and when he got back to the table suggested they get pie to go.

Dean only nodded.

Sam wanted to make a stop at the convenience store on their way back when he saw it was open, so Dean took their dessert and continued to the motel alone. Sam watched him for a moment, trying to think of something he could do to cheer his brother up.

---

The television was on when Sam got back to the room, but Sam didn't see his brother. He noticed the closed bathroom door and quickly set about his work. He was sitting on his bed when Dean came back into the room.

"What…?"

"Merry Christmas, brother."

Dean looked around at the few decorations Sam had managed to find at the convenience store. There was a paper-mache candy cane on top of the television and a small lighted tree on the table.

"I didn't have a lot of options," Sam said.

"You didn't have to do this."

Sam shrugged. "We'll get to Bobby's and have a real Christmas, but in the meantime…"

"Thanks, man."

"I have something for you," Sam said and pulled a package from under the bed. "I was going to wrap it once we got to Bobby's, but…."

Dean sat on the bed across from him and took the box. He looked pleased, but confused when he opened it. Inside he found a set of mechanic tools, they were obviously not new.

"Tools?" he looked at Sam.

"Remember that storage unit of Dad's?"

Dean nodded.

"I went back there after you….Anyway, there's a lot of stuff in there. We should completely go through it some time."

"You got these from the storage unit?"

"Yeah," Sam said, his voice cracked. "In a box labeled Dean's Stuff."

"I don't remember these." Dean's voice was soft as he ran a hand over the wrenches.

"There's something else in the box."

Dean glanced at his brother before removing the tool kit. Sam watched as Dean removed the photograph he'd placed underneath. It was of a young Dean sitting in front of a Christmas tree with the same tool kit Sam had found in the storage unit.

"The date on the back of the picture is 1982," Sam said.

Dean looked at the picture for a long time before turning his tear-filled eyes back to Sam. "This is.…I don't know what to say, Sammy."

"I can't believe Dad got you a tool set when you weren't even quite three years old," Sam said, fighting back his own tears.

Dean looked at the picture again for a long time.

"Thank you, Sammy," he finally said as he propped the photograph against the lamp on the nightstand.

More for something to do than anything else, Sam walked across the room and took two bottles of beer from the small refrigerator. He sat back down on his bed, holding one of them out to Dean.

"I don't have anything for you," he said quietly. "At least not here. I –"

"I already got my Christmas present."

Dean looked at him curiously.

"I got my brother back. That was the best gift ever."

He held out his bottle and Dean clinked his against it.

fin