The Caldwell home...
After another attack happened, the Winchesters found themselves at another Christmas decorated home as they talked to another grieving wife.
"So, that's how your son described the attack?" Dean asked as they followed her through the house into the living room, "'Santa took daddy up the chimney'?"
The woman nodded, "That's what he says, yes."
"Where were you when the attack happened?" Angel studied her, "Did you see or hear anything?"
"No. I- I was asleep and all of a sudden..." She sniffled, "I was being dragged out of bed, screaming."
"Did you get a glimpse of the attacker?"
She shook her head, "It was dark, and he hit me." She motioned to her black eye, "He knocked me out."
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Caldwell." Angel put a comforting hand on her shoulder, "I know this is hard. Just a few more questions, okay?"
"Yeah, um..." She nodded meekly again as Sam shuffled forward, "Mrs. Caldwell, where, where did you get that wreath above the fireplace?"
Angel frowned at that question as did Dean. They both looked around at the wreath in question before turned their frowns to him in puzzlement. Mrs. Caldwell also looked puzzled as she shared a look with Angel before turning it to Sam.
"Excuse me?"
"Um..." Dean and Angel both watch him, waiting for an answer as well as he shrugged and offered an embarrassed smile, "Just curious, you know."
As they walked out of the house after getting her answer Angel shook her head.
"Y'know, here's a little tip, Sammy." Her eyes pierced his, "Maybe refrain from asking the grieving widow about where she got her decor. Seems a tad inappropriate."
"Sure you didn't want to ask her about her shoes too?" Dean added, "I saw some nice handbags in the foyer."
"Guys." Sam rolled his eyes at them, "We've seen that wreath before."
"Where?"
"The Walshes'. Yesterday."
"Huh." Angel smirked, "Well aren't you perceptive."
"I knew that." Sam scoffed at Dean as he walked to the driver's side door with his head high, "I was just testing you."
Back in the motel room...
"Yeah, alright. Well, keep looking, would you? Thanks, Bobby." Sam hung up the phone before turning his attention back to his laptop as he spoke, "Well... we're not dealing with the anti-Claus."
"Gasp. You mean we don't get to slay Santa's sadistic brother? Shocker." Angel smirked from across the table, "What'd Bobby say?"
"Uh, that we're morons."
She snickered, "Can't disagree with that."
"He also said that it was probably meadowsweet in those wreaths."
"Wow! Amazing." Dean's eyes widened, "What the hell is meadowsweet?"
"It's pretty rare and it's probably the most powerful plant in pagan lore." Sam explained, "They used meadowsweet for human sacrifice. It was kind of like a... Chum for their gods. Gods were drawn to it and they'd stop by and snack on whatever was the nearest human."
Dean frowned, "Why would somebody be using that for Christmas wreaths?"
"It may sound crazy but it's actually very plausible, Dean." Angel leaned back to retrieve her cup of coffee on the counter behind her, "The traditions around Christmas come from Pagan traditions. Christianity adopted the practices later on."
"Christmas is Jesus's birthday."
"No, Jesus's birthday was probably in the fall." Sam countered, "It was actually the winter solstice festival that was co-opted by the Church and renamed 'Christmas'."
"The Yule log, the tree, and even Santa's fluffy red suit..." Angel added as she sipped from the cup, "All cute and festive but all remnants of pagan worship."
"How do you two even know that?"
"We like to read." She cocked an eyebrow, "Also, in our line of work, studying up on different Gods and Goddesses alike couldn't hurt."
"What are you gonna tell me next? Easter bunny's Jewish?" Angel and Sam shared a silent smirk at his reaction but said nothing, "So, what? You guys think we're dealing with a pagan God?"
"Probably Hold Nickar." Sam answered, "God of the winter solstice."
"And all these Martha Stewart wannabes, buying these fancy wreaths..."
"Yeah..." Angel shook her head, "They're pretty much putting a neon sign on their front door that says 'Come kill us'."
"Great."
"Huh..." Sam leaned into his laptop as he read an article, "When you sacrifice to Hold Nickar, guess what he gives you in return."
Dean smirked, "Lap dances, hopefully."
"Mild weather."
Dean looked out the window curiously, "Like no snow in the middle of December in the middle of Michigan."
"For instance."
"Jeeze." Angel shook her head, "You'd think for all this they'd be getting something a little more extravagant than 'mild weather'. How do we kill it?"
"Bobby's working on that right now. In the meantime, we need to figure out where they're selling those wreaths."
"You think they're selling them on purpose?" Deans asked, "Feeding the victims to this thing?"
"Well..." Angel exhaled deeply, "It is the perfect cover."
Inside a Christmas shop...
The three Winchesters entered the small homey store together as 'Deck the halls with boughs of holly' played. The boys went over to the shopkeeper as Angel idled around the back looking over the decorations. Sadness clouded her vision. She's always loved Christmas time, always thought it was beautiful. Sam was right, with their past she probably should be just as averted to it but she wasn't. The holidays held some of the most painful memories for her, but also some of the most cherished.
The shopkeeper smiled at Sam and Dean, "Help you, boys?"
"Uh, hope so." Dean smiled back, "We were playing Jenga over at the Walshes' the other night, and, uh... well, he hasn't shut up since about this Christmas wreath..." He patted Sam's chest with a chuckle, "I don't know, you tell him."
Sam gave him a glare, "Sure." He steeled himself as he turned back to the shopkeeper, "It was yummy."
Angel stifled a laugh from the back of the store.
The shopkeeper frowned, "I sell a lot of wreaths, guys."
"Right, right, but you see, this one would have been really special. It had, uh, it had green leaves, um, white buds on it. It might have been made of, uh... meadowsweet?"
"Well..." The man's eyebrows lifted as he smirked at Sam, "Aren't you a fussy one?"
Dean smiled, "He is."
Sam looked taken aback for a second before embarrassment filled his face. This time Angel loudly cackled from behind one of the racks earning an eye roll from her youngest brother. Dean also laughed as Sam gave him yet another annoyed look.
"Anyway, I know the one you're talking about." He frowned sympathetically at Sam, "I'm all out."
"So." Angel smiled as she popped up between her brothers, "From what I can gather this meadowsweet stuff is pretty rare, which probably makes it expensive. Why make wreaths out of it?""
"Beats me. I didn't make them."
"Who did?"
"Madge Carrigan, a local lady. She said the wreaths were so special, she gave them to me for free."
Sam's eyes widened, "She didn't charge you?"
"Nope."
Dean cocked his head, "Did you sell them for free?"
"Hell no. It's Christmas. People pay a buttload for this crap."
"Ah..." Angel smirked, "There's that warm Christmas spirit I've always heard about."
Back at the motel...
"I'm thinking these meadowsweet wreaths have got to sell for a couple hundred, at least." Angel said as she opened the motel door, turned on the light and led the three of them inside, "So why the hell is this broad just handing them out like candy on Halloween?"
Sam nodded in agreement, "Sounds pretty suspicious."
The three of them all take off their jackets and spread about the room. The boys sat on the edge of their beds as Angel walked over to the mini fridge to pull out a few beers.
Dean smiled as she handed them each one, "Remember that wreath Dad brought home that one year?"
Sam raised a brow, "You mean the one he stole from, like, a liquor store?"
"God." Angel chuckled as she sat in one of the motel chairs across from them, "That atrocious thing made out of a bunch of empty beer cans?"
Dean nodded, "That thing was great, right?"
"That thing was so unbelievably ugly." She chuckled as she took a sip of beer, "But, yeah... In its own right it was pretty great. Dad was proud of it anyway."
"You know..." He shrugged as he took a drink as well, "I bet if we looked around hard enough, we could probably find one just like it."
Angel smiled a little as she looked down at her beer, "We should definitely try."
"Alright, guys..." Sam shook his head, "What's going on with you two?" At their looks he trekked on, "Look, since when are either of you Bing Crosby? Why are you guys pushing Christmas so hard?"
"The real question is why are you so against it?" Angel leaned forward on her legs as her eyes softened, but sadness laced them, "Do you really feel that all of your childhood memories are that traumatic?"
"No, that has nothing to do with it."
She searched his eyes, "Then what is it?"
"I- I mean, I- I just..." He shrugged, "I don't get it. We haven't even talked about Christmas in years."
"I know, I know. It's just..." She swallowed thickly as she avoided both of their eyes when hers became glossy, "This is my last year, boys. I wanna make it... I don't know, memorable or something."
Dean's eyes stayed planted on his beer as his grip tightened. Tears threatened to spill as well. Every time the subject of her death came up he tensed up as he tried to stifle his emotions for her and Sam. He felt similar to his little brother, but he also knew how important this was to his sister.
"Yeah..." Sam nodded and took a pause before he let out a small sigh, "That's why I can't."
Angel took a steadying breath herself as she looked up to him, "Sammy..."
"Ang, I can't just sit around, drinking eggnog, pretending everything's okay..." He took another breath as tears filled his own eyes, "When I know next Christmas you'll be dead." Dean nodded in understanding as he swiftly wiped his own eyes, "I just can't."
Angel looked between them sadly and nearly shattered at the sadness she saw. She wished she could say something that would make everything better. Do something that would change her path to hell. But there wasn't, her fate was sealed. She just hoped she could somehow help her brothers cope with it.
Flashback, 1991...
Later on in the night Sam sat on his bed as he read a comic book. When Angel came out of the shower drying her hair Dean walked back into the room. He was carrying a bag of groceries as he hurriedly closed the door before the cold got in.
Angel cocked an eyebrow, "Where'd you go?"
"I picked this one up some dinner." He tossed Sam a package of jerky before a bag of funyuns, "Don't forget your vegetables." He then tossed her a bag of gummies, "And no, i didn't forget about you."
Angel chuckled and shook her head as she walked to get a cup of water. Dean took off his jacket, sat down on his bed and opened a sod.
Sam looked from him to Angel and back, "I know why you guys keep a gun under your pillows."
Angel's brows furrowed at that as Dean lifted his pillow to see his gun.
He glared, "Stay out of our stuff, Sam."
"And I know why we lay salt down everywhere we go."
"Sam." Angel walked over and put her hands on her hips, "How could you possibly know that?"
Sam turned around and grabbed something under his bed. IWhen he tossed it onto the nightstand between the beds both Angel and Dean tensed. It was John's diary.
Dean stood up and grabbed it, "Where'd you get that?" He reared on his sister, "You let him read this?!"
"Of course not!" She snatched it from him before scoffing at Sam, "Sam why were you going through Dad's stuff? You're in so much trouble right now! What the hell?!"
"I looked through it while you were in the shower." He looked between them, "Are monsters real?"
"Of course monsters aren't real."
"You're crazy."
"Guys, tell me."
Dean hesitated as he and Angel shared a tense look. The blonde sighed and shook her head as she crossed her arms. The grip she had on her fathers journal tightened. She didn't want Sam knowing the truth. He was still so young, but he already read everything. And neither of them could ever say no to his puppy dog eyes.
"Look Sam..." With an irritated sigh she sat next to him, "If we talk about this then you can't tell dad about it. You can't tell him we told you." He nodded, "I'm serious."
"We'll end you."
"Promise."
"Well..." Dean began as he took a seat across from them, "The first thing you have to know is we have the coolest dad in the world. He's a superhero."
"He is?"
"Yeah. Monsters are real. Dad fights them. He's fighting them right now."
Sam frowned, "But Dad said the monsters under my bed weren't real."
"Well that's because he checked under there already." Angel met his eyes with a soft smile, "But they are real, Sammy."
Sam paused for a second as he digested that, "Is Santa real?"
Dean smiled a little before shaking his head, "No."
He paused again looking even more sad, "If monsters are real, then they could get us." Fear filled his face, "They could get me."
"No, no they cant, Sammy." Angel quickly dismissed, "Dad's not gonna let them get any of us."
"But what if they get him?"
"They aren't gonna get Dad." Dean shook his head, "Dad's, like, the best."
"But..." He frowned, "I read in Dad's book that they got Mom."
Angel exhaled deeply as she shook her head, "Thats- It's complicated, Sammy."
"If they got Mom, they can get Dad, and if they get Dad, they can get us."
"Hey, that's not how it works, okay?" She put an arm around him comfortingly, "Dad's fine and so are we."
At Sams sad and worried look, Dean meets his eyes, "You okay?"
He quickly looked away from both of them, "Yeah."
"Hey, Dad's gonna be here for Christmas." Dean nodded comfortingly as he came to sit down on the other side of him, "Just like he always is."
Sam took a second to hold back his tears, "I just want to go to sleep, okay?"
"Yeah..." Angel sighed and kissed his head as she and Dean stood, "Okay."
As he laid down and started to cry silently both of their hearts broke for him.
"It'll all be better when you wake up." Sam cried harder at his brother's words, "You'll see. Promise."
"Bed for you too." Angel sighed as she sent one last sad look to Sam, "Come on."