Important: This is the last story of 2025! I’ll be taking the last half of December and first half of January off from posting. I’ll be back January 16th, 2026 with the first story of the new year!
Written: 25.12.03
Words: 1,656
Wee!Chesters, 2025’s 2nd Christmas story
“Where is he?”
Dean rolled his eyes as he watched the 5-year-old excitedly fog up the glass of the window. He flopped down on the couch, unceremoniously, “Don’t waste your time, Sammy. John’s not coming.”
The youngest didn’t bother tearing his eyes away from the snow-covered street, “Of course he is. He promised.”
That made the blonde snort, as he picked up a magazine, “Yeah, cause John never breaks his promises.”
He didn’t regret the comment as much as he should’ve as his brother finally turned to face him. Dean kept his eyes averted to the magazine page in his lap – purposefully avoiding those ridiculous puppy dog eyes that made him cave.
Sammy was old enough to learn that they couldn’t rely on their father – just themselves. Harsh? Maybe, but that was the thinking that was going to keep them safe, not Sammy’s relentless hope for good things.
They were cursed. The sooner his brother accepted that, the better.
“He wouldn’t break this one.”
“Why not?”
“B-because.”
Dean raised an eyebrow as he flipped the page, “Because…?”
He heard his brother take in an annoyed huff, “Because it’s important.”
“Right, just like he wouldn’t have skipped your spelling bee final, or your first day of kindergarten, or-”
“Here you are!” Bobby’s voice cut off the end of Dean’s sentence. He took a few steps into the room, noting the brother’s expressions before raising an eyebrow, “… What’s going on in here?”
Sammy crossed his arms over his chest and huffed again, “Dean’s being mean.”
“Oh?”
Dean slammed the magazine down on the table, standing up from the couch, “It’s not mean to tell you the truth!”
“It’s not true! He’ll be here!”
“Then where is he? Huh?” Dean pointed an angry finger at the window, “You think he’s hiding behind that tree? Under the snow bank? Wake up! He was never going to come.”
“Dean.”
Sammy’s bottom lip began to tremble, and he stomped his foot, “D-don’t say that!”
“He never comes because he doesn’t care about us!” Dean pushed passed the youngest, heading for the stairs, “Grow up, Sammy.”
He stomped up the stairs, practically shaking with the force of his rage. The blonde reached their shared bedroom not long after, and unthinkingly slammed the door shut behind him, stupid Sammy. He started pacing as he failed to get control of his rage, stupid John. It’d be so much easier if he just-
“Dean!”
A chill went down the blonde’s spine as he heard the call of his father’s voice. He swallowed thickly, took a moment to take in a big breath before bracing himself as he opened the bedroom door. He hesitantly made his way over to the stairs, craning his neck in an attempt to get eyes on the man before being spotted. Maybe if Dean could see what state he was in, he’d be able to judge how he was going to react better. If he was covered in blood, there was a better chance John’d be too wiped out from the hunt to yell at him.
Unfortunately, Dean was still too short to see over the staircase banister.
He hung his head and reluctantly made his way down the steps. Dean hesitated ever-so-subtly as he moved down to the last step. He took in another big breath as his foot hit the first floor, no more stalling.
Dean made his way into the living room, straightening up as he spotted his father. “Y-yes Sir?”
John’s face broke out into a smile and he rushed forward, wrapping the blonde up in a hug.
The action broke Dean’s brain for a moment – he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been hugged by his father – and he barely had time to relax into it before it was over.
John pulled back, before pointing a thumb over his shoulder, at a dirty sack that was laying against the coffee table, “Help me put these under the tree before Sammy gets back.”
Dean couldn’t hide his confusion, “… back?”
“Yeah,” John turned, picking the sack up before starting the short journey over to the tree, “He and Bobby are outside.”
Dean turned his attention to the window, eyebrows raising as he saw they were, in fact, out in the yard, building a snowman. His brother was all giggles and shrieks of happiness – no traces of the tears from their fight.
Dean shook his head and moved to help his father. There weren’t just a surprising amount of gifts in the sack, but they were all also expertly wrapped. With real wrapping paper – not their usual newspaper and twine.
Dean placed the first present about halfway back from the front of the tree. He hesitated as he went to grab the next one, half-waiting for his father to tell him the first wasn’t in the right spot. To his surprise, John just started placing presents on the opposite side of the tree.
… Huh, They kept placing the presents around the tree in silence for a few minutes, the blonde staying half-braced for the criticism, or chew out from his blow up with Sammy to come. Once John started whistling, Dean finally snapped.
“So, D-Dad,” Dean cleared his throat, mentally cursing himself as his voice shook, “How’d the hunt go?”
“It went…” John let his voice trail off as he stared at the newest laid present. He shook his head after a moment of silence, plastering the uncharacteristic smile back on his face, “Let’s not talk about hunting.”
No hunting? Dean swallowed thickly and slowly started reaching to his boot for the small, silver dagger that was tucked there, “Did you kill it?”
“What did I just say?” John chuckled and shook his head, before picking up another present.
Dean’s hand wrapped around the handle of the dagger then, and he was pulling it out of his boot in the next instant, surprised when his father caught his arm easily.
John’s face clouded over then – into the familiar angry expression he usually wore, “What the hell, Dean?”
Dean couldn’t help his eyes from going wide, “I-I thought….”
“You think if I was a monster I could take more than two steps into this house?” John tucked the dagger into one of his jacket pockets, hand on his son’s arm squeezing harder, “Don’t think your Uncle Bobby is good at his job?”
“N-no! I… I…”
John’s angry eyes searched his son’s scared face a moment longer, before he let out a deep huff and finally dropped his arm. He adverted his gaze to the presents and lowered his voice, “I found a lead on the demon. I’m leaving tomorrow.”
“But tomorrow’s Christm-” Dean cut himself off as his father hung his head a little farther and he realized what he was saying, oh.
After a long moment of silence, John took in a sharp breath, before digging back into the sack. Dean swallowed suit, placing the last present at the front of the tree. He turned to his father, who had moved back to his feet, “I-is this okay?”
“Looks great.”
John balled the sack up before making the short trip over to the hall closet, chucking it in. He checked the window as he turned around, new smile splitting his face, “Perfect timing!”
Before Dean had time to question that meant, his brother and Bobby came in the kitchen door. Sammy barely had time to drop his coat on the floor before spotting John and shrieking.
“Whoa!” John pretended to get knocked a few steps backward as the youngest hurled himself at his legs, “Heya, Sammy.”
“You’re here!”
John cocked an eyebrow at that as he picked up his son, “Of course I’m here. I promised, didn’t I?”
“Um,” Sammy glanced semi-nervous eyes at his brother, “w-well-”
Bobby cleared his throat then, and took a few steps away from the coat rack, “How about I put on the kettle for some hot chocolate?”
“Awesome!” John sent his friend an appreciative smile before he half-turned, so Sammy could see the presents under the tree, “Then maybe, you guys can get started on these?”
“Wow!” Sammy practically leapt out of his father’s arms as he saw the set up, “There’s so many!”
“Ran into Santa on my way here.” John put the youngest down with a wink, “He let me take your presents early.”
Sammy slid to his knees in front of the tree, eyes wide as he looked over the stash. He turned after a moment, sending their father his most pleading puppy dog eyes, “Can I open one tonight? Please? Please, please, please?”
John chuckled and eased himself down on the arm of the couch, “You can open all of them tonight.”
“All of them?” Sammy’s eyes went impossibly wider and his jaw dropped open.
He looked between their father, Bobby – who had come back out of the kitchen – and Dean. The corner of his mouth twitched as his eyes landed on his brother, “… Are there any for Dean?”
The blonde felt his cheeks flush and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, trying to look nonchalant, “Come on, Sammy, you know I’m too old for presents.”
“Oh yeah?” John crossed his arms over his chest before nodding to the side of the tree he’d laid presents down on, “Does that mean you don’t want any of those?”
Dean’s mouth fell open in surprise, and he looked at his father in disbelief. His nod was all the invitation the blonde needed to join his brother in front of the tree. His hands shook slightly as he looked out over the presents and noted some did, indeed have his name scribbled on them.
“Merry Christmas, boys.”
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