SEATTLE, WASHINGTON - ONE YEAR AGO
HOUSE - CHRISTMAS NIGHT
The living room was decorated for Christmas. The doorbell rang and a boy opened the door.
"Merry Christmas, Grandpa," Stevie said.
"Oh, Merry Christmas to you too, Stevie," the grandfather replied, hugging his grandson tight and entered.
"Did you bring me any presents?"
"Now, why would I want to do that?"
"'Cause it's Christmas."
"Oh, I thought Santa Claus brought the presents at Christmas. You have been a good boy this year, haven't you?"
"I have, I swear."
"Well, then, who knows? Maybe he'll come."
The grandfather was dressed as Santa next to the Christmas tree. He put on a fake beard and Santa hat and jingled some bells. Stevie walked part of the way down the stairs and watched Santa/Grandpa take presents out of a big red bag.
"Santa!" Stevie whispered.
Santa/Grandpa was still taking presents from his bag when sudden thumping sounds came from the roof.
"Reindeer!"
Santa/Grandpa looked confused, but returned his attention to his bag. More sounds were heard, like someone was walking on the roof. Santa/Grandpa looked up, but the sounds stopped again. Ash fell from the chimney into the fireplace. Santa/Grandpa investigated while Stevie watched from the staircase. Suddenly, hands grabbed Santa/Grandpa and pulled him up the chimney. Santa/Grandpa screamed.
"Santa?" Stevie called.
One of Santa/Grandpa's boots fell from the chimney, with bloodstains on it.
YPSILANTI, MICHIGAN: PRESENT DAY
HOUSE
A girl was looking outside through the glass door and a woman stood outside, being interviewed.
"Um, my daughter and I were in our beds," the woman said. "Mike was downstairs decorating the tree. I heard a thump on the roof and then I heard Mike scream, and now I'm talking to the FBI."
"And you didn't see any of it?" Dean questioned.
"No, he was... he was just gone."
"The doors were locked? There was no forced entry?"
"That's right."
"Does anybody else have a key?"
"My parents."
"Where do they live?"
"Florida."
Sam walked out of the house. "Thanks for letting me have a look around, Mrs. Walsh. I think we, uh, got just about everything we need. We're all set."
"We'll be in touch," Dean told her.
Mrs. Walsh nodded. Dean and Sam walked down the steps.
"Agent..." Mrs. Walsh began, causing the trio to turn around. "The police said my husband might have been kidnapped."
"Could be," Dean said.
"Then why haven't the kidnappers called? O-or -- or demanded a ransom? It's three days till Christmas. What am I supposed to tell our daughter?"
"We're very sorry," Sam apologized.
Sam and Dean walked away and Mrs. Walsh turned to go inside.
"Find anything?" Dean asked.
Sam sighed. "Stocking, mistletoe... this." He gave Dean something from his pocket.
"A tooth? Where was this?" Dean examined the tooth.
"In the chimney."
"Chimney? No way a man fits up a chimney. It's too narrow."
"No way he fits up in one piece."
"All right, so, if Dad went up the chimney-"
"We need to find out what dragged him up there."
MOTEL
Pictures of demons were pinned to the wall. Sam was searching the Internet for information on demons. Juliette was reading to Deanna. The door opened and Dean walked inside, carrying a brown paper bag.
"So, was I right?" Dean asked, "Is it the serial-killing chimney sweep?"
"Yep," Sam replied. "It's, uh, it's actually Dick Van Dyke."
"Who?"
"Mary Poppins," Juliette clarified.
"Who's that?"
"Only the best nanny ever."
"Oh come on -- never mind." Sam waved his hand.
"It turns out that Walsh is the second guy in town grabbed out of his house this month," Dean said.
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah."
"The other guy get dragged up the chimney, too?"
"Don't know. Witnesses sad they heard a thump on the roof. So, what the hell do you think we're dealing with?"
"Actually, I have an idea."
"Yeah?"
"Uh, it's gonna sound crazy."
"What could you possibly say that sounds crazy to me?"
Sam motioned for Deanna's ears to be covered before he said, "Uh... evil Santa."
Dean paused and nodded. "Yeah, that's crazy."
"Yeah... I mean, she's just saying that there's some version of the anti-Claus in every culture." He showed Dean some evil Santa pictures. "You got Belsnickel, Krampus, Black Peter." Dean took the pictures from Sam. "Whatever you want to call it, there's all sorts of lore."
"Saying what?"
"Saying back in the day, Santa's brother went rogue and now he shows up around Christmas time, but instead of bringing presents, he punishes the wicked."
"By hauling their ass up the chimney?"
"For starters, yeah."
"So, this is both your theory, huh? Santa's shady brother?"
"Well, I'm just saying that's what the lore says."
"Santa doesn't have a brother. There is no Santa."
Sam frowned. "Yeah, we know. You're the one who told me that in the first place, remember." He looked at Dean, who looked down, then Sam sighed. "Yeah, you know what, I could be wrong."
"Maybe, maybe not."
"What?" Sam and Juliette asked, the latter removing her hands from her daughter's ears.
"I did a little digging. Turns out both victims visited the same place before they got snatched."
"Where?"
SANTA'S VILLAGE
Christmas music played, children were playing, and people wearing Christmas costumes were walking.
"It does kind of lend credence to the theory, don't it?" Dean questioned.
"Yeah, but anti-Claus? Couldn't be," Sam said.
"It's a Christmas miracle. Hey, speaking of, we should have one this year."
"Have one what?"
"A Christmas."
Sam scoffed. "No, thanks."
"No, we'll get a tree, a little Boston Market, just like when we were little," Dean suggested.
"Dean, those weren't exactly Hallmark memories for me, you know."
"What are you talking about? We had some great Christmases."
"Whose childhood are you talking about?"
"Oh, come on, Sam."
"No, just... no."
Dean looked at him, surprised. "All right, Grinch."
Dean walked away while Sam and Juliette stayed still. Suddenly, he noticed a reindeer's statue was staring at him and Sam looked uncomfortable while Juliette looked amused and Deanna looked wary.
BROKEN BOW, NEBRASKA - CHRISTMAS EVE, 1991
MOTEL
Reindeers pulled Santa's sleigh across the sky on the TV, which was playing 'A Year Without Santa Claus'. Sam was wrapping something with newspaper.
"What is that?" Dean asked.
"A present for Dad," Sam replied.
"Yeah, right. Where'd you get the money? Steal it?"
"No. Uncle Bobby gave it to me. Said it was real special."
"What is it?"
"A pony."
"Very funny."
Sam continued to wrap the present. Dean sat on the couch and picked up a magazine.
"Dad's gonna be here, right?" Sam wondered.
"He'll be here."
"It's Christmas."
"He knows and he'll be here. Promise."
"Where's Dad?"
"On business."
"What kind of business?"
"You know that. He sells stuff."
"What kind of stuff?"
"Stuff!"
"Nobody ever tells me anything."
Dean rolled his eyes. "Then quit asking."
Dean left Sam and walked to the bed. He swiped all the junk from it and opened the magazine. Sam walked over to Dean.
"Is Dad a spy?" Sam asked.
"Mm-hmm," Dean hummed. "He's James Bond."
"Why do we move around so much?"
"'Cause everywhere we go, they get sick of your face."
"I'm old enough, Dean. You can tell me the truth."
"You don't wanna know the truth. Believe me."
"Is that why we never talk about... Mom?"
Dean tossed the magazine away angrily and stood. "Shut up! Don't you ever talk about Mom. Ever!" He headed for the door.
"Wait, where are you going?"
"Out." Dean shut the door behind him, leaving Sam alone.
SANTA'S VILLAGE
"You'd think with the ten bucks it costs to get into this place, Santa could scrounge up a little snow," Dean said.
Sam awoke from his daydreaming. "What?"
"Nothing," Dean replied. "What are we looking for, again?"
"Um..." he looked around, "lore says that the anti-Claus will walk with a limp and smell like sweets."
"Great. So we're looking for a pimp Santa. Why the sweets?"
"Think about it, Dean. If you smell like candy, the kids will come closer, you know?"
"Creepy," Lana muttered as Sam chuckled and Dean nodded. "How does this thing know who's been naughty and who's been nice?"
"I don't know."
A man wearing a Santa Claus costume sat outside a small barn. A woman and boy walked up to him.
"So, Ronny, come sit on Santa's knee," Santa said and the boy did so. "Ah, there you go. You been a good boy this year?"
"Yeah," the boy replied.
"Good. Santa's got a special gift for you."
Dean looked at Santa and the boy. "Maybe we do."
Ronny's mother took his arm and led him away from the Santa. "Come on, honey, let's go."
Deanna held her hands up to Dean who picked her up and she buried her face in his arms.
"You don't want to see Santa?" Dean asked softly.
Deanna shook her head. "No, Dada."
"You don't have to, Dena."
A woman in an elf costume walked up to Sam, Dean, Juliette and Deanna. "Welcome to Santa's court. Can I escort your child to Santa?"
"Uh..." Sam began.
Dean interrupted him. "No. No. Uh, but actually my brother here... it's been a lifelong dream of his."
The elfin looked at Sam. "Uh, sorry. No kids over... 12."
"No, he's just kidding," Sam told the elfin. "We only came here to watch."
The elfin looked at Dean who shook his head and the elfin backed off. "Eww."
"I-I didn't mean that; we came here to w -- Y-" Dean and Juliette looked at Sam. "Thanks a lot, Dean. Thanks for that. Thanks for helping, Jules."
Dean and Juliette laughed, their daughter joining in, and suddenly turned serious. "Check it out."
Sam, Dean, Juliette and Deanna watched the Santa leave his chair. Santa walked with a bad limp.
"Are you two seeing this?" Dean asked.
"A lot of people walk with limps, right?" Sam questioned.
Juliette looked between the brothers. "Tell me you two didn't smell that. That was candy."
"That was ripple, I think. Had to be."
"Maybe," Dean guessed. "We're willing to take that chance?"
HOUSE
Inside the Impala, Sam, Dean, Juliette and Deanna were spying on a simple house that was decorated with Christmas lights. Deanna had fallen asleep in her car seat.
"What time is it?" Dean asked.
"Same time as the last time you asked. Here..." Sam handed Dean a thermos. "Caffeinate."
Dean took the thermos from Sam and tried to pour coffee into the cup, but the thermos was empty.
"Wonderful." He scoffed. "Hey, Sam."
"Yeah?"
"Mmm?" Juliette hummed tiredly from the back. "Never mind."
"Why are you the boy that hates Christmas?" Dean asked. "Stay awake, honey."
"Dean-" Sam began.
"I mean I'll admit. You know, we had a few bumpy holidays when we were kids."
""Bumpy"?"
"That was then. We'll do it right this year."
"Look, Dean. If you, Juliette and Deanna want to have Christmas, knock yourselves out. Just don't involve me."
He looked at Sam in disbelief. "Oh yeah, that'd be great. Me and my girls making cranberry molds."
They returned to watching the house. Santa looked outside, then closed his curtains.
Juliette peeked out her window. "What's up with Saint Nicotine?"
"Oh, my God!" a woman cried.
Sam and Dean jumped out of the car and ran to the house with their guns drawn. Dean looked inside the window of the front door.
"Huh," Sam noted.
"What?" Dean questioned.
"Nothing. It's just that, uh... well, you know, Mr. Gung Ho Christmas might have to blow away Santa."
INT. HOUSE
Dean opened the door. Santa was sitting on the couch, holding a bong and a bottle of whiskey. Santa stood and Dean and Sam quickly hid their guns.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Santa demanded.
Dean looked around and realized Santa was only watching TV.
The man on the TV said, "I'm really not interested, okay?"
"Mistle my toe," the woman replied. "Roast my chestnut."
Dean looked at Sam, who shrugged.
"Ah, w-" Sam began.
"Jingle my bells?" the woman asked.
Dean started singing badly. "S-silent night... Holy..." He looked at Sam, who followed him.
"...night," the brothers sang while Santa sat down and smiled. "All is well..."
Santa sang along as well. "...all is dry."
"Bright..." Sam sang.
Dean, Sam and Santa all sang, "Round and round..." They tried to sing, but didn't remember the lyrics.
"The table..." Sam put a hand on Dean's shoulder to pull him away.
INT. LARGE HOUSE
Silent Night played as a boy walked down the staircase to a room where there was a large Christmas tree. Ashes fell into the fireplace from the chimney. The boy stood in front of the fireplace.
"Santa, you're early," the boy said.
The boy jumped back as the fireplace grill fell in front of him. He stared in shock as a heavy-breathing human-shaped creature walked through the living room, went upstairs, and entered the parents' room. A woman screamed and a man made muffled sounds. The creature dragged a bag containing the struggling man downstairs. There was a loud thump and the sound of flesh tore as the creature killed the man in in front of the boy. The creature stared down at the boy, then grabbed a cookie from a plate and ate it while he dragged the bag away from the boy.
---
"So, that's how your son described the attack?" Dean asked. ""Santa took daddy up the chimney"?"
"That's what he says, yes," the woman replied.
"And where were you?" Juliette questioned.
"I was asleep and all of a sudden... I was being dragged out of bed, screaming."
"Did you see the attacker?" Sam wondered.
The woman shook her head. "It was dark, and he hit me. He knocked me out."
Dean nodded. "I'm sorry. I know this is hard."
"Yeah... um, Mrs. Caldwell, where did you get that wreath above the fireplace?" Sam asked as Dean and Juliette looked around at the wreath.
Mrs. Caldwell frowned. "Excuse me?"
Dean and Juliette looked at Sam, waiting for an answer.
"Just curious, you know," Sam replied.
As they left, Dean said, "Wreaths, huh? Sure you didn't want to ask her about her shoes? I saw some nice handbags in the foyer."
"We've seen that wreath before, Dean."
"Where?"
"The Walshes'. Yesterday."
"I know. I was just testing you."
MOTEL
Sam was on the phone. "Yeah, all right. Well keep looking, would you? Thanks, Bobby." He hung up. "Well... we're not dealing with the anti-Claus."
"What did Bobby say?" Dean questioned.
"Uh, that we're morons. He also said that it was probably meadowsweet in those wreaths." He looked at his laptop.
"Wow! Amazing. What the hell is meadowsweet?"
"It's pretty rare and it's probably the most powerful plant in pagan lore," Juliette replied.
"Pagan lore?" Dean repeated. "How'd you know that, babe?"
"Yeah. You know lore like this has always interested me. You know that. See, they used meadowsweet for human sacrifices. 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."
"Why would somebody be using that for Christmas wreaths?"
"It's not as crazy as sounds, Dean," Sam replied. "I mean, pretty much every Christmas tradition is pagan."
"Christmas is Jesus' birthday."
"No, Jesus' birthday was probably in the fall. It was actually the winter solstice festival that was co-opted by the church and renamed Christmas. But I mean, the Yule log, the tree, even Santa's red suit -- that's all remnants of pagan worship."
"How do you know that? What are you gonna tell us next? Easter bunny's Jewish?" Sam said nothing. "So you think we're dealing with a pagan god?"
"Yeah, probably Hold Nickar, god of the winter solstice."
"And all these Martha Stewart wannabes, buying these fancy wreaths..."
"Yeah, it's pretty much like putting a neon sign on your front door saying "Come kill us"," Lana finished.
"Great," Dean muttered.
Sam read an article on the laptop. "Huh... When you sacrifice to Hold Nickar, guess what he gives you in return."
"Lap dances, hopefully," Dean replied.
"Mild weather."
Juliette wheeled up to the window and looked out. "Like no snow in the middle of December in the middle of Michigan."
"For instance."
"Do we know how to kill it yet?"
"No. Bobby's working on that right now. We got to figure out where they're selling those wreaths."
"You think they're selling them on purpose?" Dean asked. "Feeding the victims to this thing?"
Sam exhaled. "Let's find out."
Juliette shook her head. "You two go. I'll stay here with Deanna."
Dean stroked her cheek and rested his forehead to hers. "See you soon, honey."
"Be careful."
"We'll try."
---
Sam and Dean entered a Christmas shop.
"Help you, boys?" the shopkeeper asked.
"Uh, hope so," Dean replied. "Uh, we were playing Jenga over at the Walshes' the other night, and, uh... well, he hasn't shut up about this Christmas wreath and," he looked to Sam, "I don't know, you tell him."
Sam shot his brother a look. "Sure. It was yummy."
"I sell a lot of wreaths, guys," the shopkeeper told them.
"Right, right, but -- but you see, this one would have been really special. It had, uh, it had, uh, green leaves, um, white buds on it. It might have been made of, uh... meadowsweet?"
"Well aren't you a fussy one?"
Dean smiled. "He is..." He laughed and Sam looked at him, annoyed.
"Anyway, I know the one you're talking about. I'm all out."
"Huh. Seems like this meadowsweet stuff's pretty rare and 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."
"She didn't charge you?" Sam asked.
"Nope."
"Did you sell them for free?" Dean wondered.
"Hell no. It's Christmas. People pay a buttload for this crap."
"That's the spirit."
Lana, holding a grocery bag, and Rose walked in.
MOTEL
Dean opened the door and turned on the light. Sam followed him in.
"How much do you two think a meadowsweet wreath would cost?" Dean asked.
"A couple hundred dollars, at least," Sam guessed.
"This lady's giving them away for free? What do you think about that?"
"Well, sounds pretty suspicious," Juliette replied.
Dean and Sam took off their jackets and sat on the edge of their beds. Juliette was in her wheelchair between the beds. Deanna walked up to her father and he picked her up, sitting her on his lap.
"Remember that wreath Dad brought home that one year?" Dean said.
"You mean the one he stole from, like, a liquor store?" Sam shot back.
"Yeah, it was a bunch of empty beer cans. That thing was great. I bet if I looked around hard enough, I could probably find one just like it."
"All right. Dude... What's going on with you?"
"What?"
"I mean, since when are you Bing Crosby all of a sudden? Why do you what Christmas so bad?"
"Why are you so against it? I mean, were your childhood memories that traumatic?"
"No, that has nothing to do with it."
"Then what?"
"I-I mean, I-I just... I don't get it. You haven't talked about Christmas in years."
"Well, yeah. This is my last year."
Sam paused. "I know... That's why I can't."
Juliette nodded sadly. "I can't either, Dean. The four of us not celebrating Christmas after this year..."
Dean looked between them. "What do you two mean?"
Sam met Dean's eyes. "Like Juliette touched upon, I mean I can't just sit around, drinking eggnog, pretending everything's okay, when we know next Christmas you'll be dead." Dean nodded. "I just can't. And Juliette kind of said she can't either."
Dean nodded, realizing the sadness in Sam's voice and the devastation of what was to come in Juliette's eyes. All four were silent.
Deanna hugged her father and reached for her mother's hand. Juliette took her daughter's small hand and gave it a light squeeze.
MOTEL
Sam was sitting on the couch reading a comic book. Dean walked inside the room, holding a bag of groceries.
"Thought you went out," Sam said.
"Yeah, to get you dinner." He tossed Sam packaged food. "Don't forget your vegetables." He tossed him another bag of snack food and placed the bag on the table.
Dean took off his jacket, sat down on his bed and opened a drink can. Sam sat on the other bed.
"I know why you keep a gun under your pillow," Sam told his brother.
Dean lifted his pillow and saw his gun. "No, you don't. Stay out of my stuff."
"And I know why we lay salt down everywhere we go."
"No, you don't. Shut up."
Sam turned around and grabbed something under his bed. It was John's diary. Sam tossed it onto the nightstand between the beds.
Dean stood. "Where'd you get that? That's Dad's! He's gonna kick your ass for reading that."
"Are monsters real?"
"What? You're crazy."
"Tell me."
Dean looked away and hesitated. "I swear, if you ever tell Dad I told you any of this, I will end you."
"Promise."
Dean sat and looked at John's journal. "Well, 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."
"But Dad said the monsters under my bed weren't real."
"That's 'cause he already checked under there. But yeah, they're real. Almost everything's real."
"Is Santa real?"
Dean shook his head. "No."
Sam paused. "If monsters are real, then they could get us. They could get me."
"Dad's not gonna let them get you."
"But what if they get him?"
"They aren't gonna get Dad. Dad's, like the best."
"I read in Dad's book that they got Mom."
Dean exhaled. "It's complicated, Sam."
"If they got Mom, they can get Dad and if they can get Dad, they can get us."
It's not like that." He moved and sat next to Sam. "Okay? Dad's fine. We're fine. Trust me." Sam looked sad and worried. "You okay?"
"Yeah." Sam looked away.
"Hey, Dad's gonna be here for Christmas. Just like he always is."
Sam held back tears. "I just want to go to sleep, okay?"
"Yeah, okay."
Sam laid down on the bed and cried quietly. Dean stayed sitting on the edge of the bed.
"It'll all be better when you wake up," Dean said. "You'll see. Promise."
HOUSE
Sam and Dean walked up to a big white house with Christmas decorations on the lawn. Juliette and Deanna stayed at the motel.
"This is where Mrs. Wreath lives, huh?" Dean said. "Can't you just feel the evil pagan vibe?" He knocked on the door.
Madge greeted them. "Yes?"
"Please tell me you're the Madge Carrigan who makes the meadowsweet wreaths."
"Why, yes I am."
"Ha! Bingo."
"Yeah? Uh, well, we were just admiring your wreaths in Mr. Sylar's place the other day," Sam told her.
"You were? Well, isn't that meadowsweet just the finest-smelling thing you ever smelled?"
"It is, it sure is. But the problem is, is that all you wreaths had sold out before we got the chance to buy one."
"Oh, fudge!"
"You wouldn't have another one that we could buy from you, would you?"
"Oh, no, I'm afraid those were the only ones I had for this season."
"Aww..."
"Tell me something, why did you decide to make them out of meadowsweet?" Dean wondered.
Mr. Carrigan came down the staircase inside.
"Why, the smell, of course!" Madge replied. "I don't think I've ever smelled anything finer."
"Yeah... um, you mentioned that," Sam reminded her.
"What's going on, honey?" Mr. Carrigan questioned.
"Well just some nice boys asking about my wreaths, dear," Madge answered.
"Oh, the wreaths are fine. Fine wreaths. Oh, care for some peanut brittle?" He offered them peanut brittle, but Sam slapped Dean's hand away.
"We're okay," Sam said.
MOTEL
Dean was sharpening a wooden stake, while Sam used the laptop. Juliette was reading a Christmas book to Deanna. Five other wooden stakes were on the bed and floor near Dean.
Sam clapped his hands. "I knew it. Something was way off with those two."
"What'd you find?" Dean asked.
"The Carrigans lived in Seattle, last year, where two abductions took place right around Christmas. They moved here in January. All that Christmas crap in their house -- that wasn't boughs of holly. It was vervain and mint."
"Pagan stuff?"
"Serious pagan stuff."
Dean frowned. "So what, Ozzie and Harriet are keeping a pagan god hidden underneath their plastic-covered couch?"
"I don't know. All I know we're gonna check them out. So, what about Bobby? He's sure evergreen stakes will kill this thing, right?"
He looked at the stake in his hand. "Yeah, he's sure." He turned to his daughter. "Stay here with Mommy, okay?"
Deanna nodded and asked, "Pesent?"
Dean chuckled, ruffling her hair. "Maybe, kiddo."
CARRIGAN HOUSE
Sam and Dean walked towards the house and Dean picked the lock.
They entered, both holding a wooden stake.
Dean looked at the couch, still covered with plastic and whispered, "See? Plastic."
Dean went into the living room and looked at all the Christmas ornaments, while Sam went to the hall, which was also decorated with ornaments and snow globes. He went into the kitchen and saw plates of cookies and cakes and shone his flashlight on the lock of a door.
"Hey, Dean," Sam called.
Dean joined Sam and the two of them walked down to the basement. Dean held his flashlight and found bones covered with blood in a large bowl. They checked the room and realized the whole basement looked like a butchery room rather than a storage room. Sam found a leather bag covered with blood. He looked disgusted and moved to another spot. Sam poked a bag that was hanging from the wall and the bag moved -- someone inside was struggling. Madge grabbed Sam's neck from behind and lifted him off the ground.
"Sam!" Dean yelled.
Madge pushed Sam against a wall and held him by his throat. Dean ran to him and tried to stake Madge, but Mr. Carrigan grabbed his arm and knocked his head against a wall. Dean fell to the ground, unconscious. Madge looked at her husband, who smiled and nodded and looked back at Sam, who was struggling to breathe.
"Gosh, I wish you boys hadn't come down here," Madge said.
Sam moved his flashlight to the Carrigans' faces, which appeared monster-like in the beam of the flashlight, but turned back to normal in the dark. Madge shoved Sam hard against the wall and he fell to the ground.
A number of bowls and a knife were set out on the kitchen table. Sam and Dean were tied up in chairs, back to back.
"Dean? You okay?" Sam asked.
"Yeah, I think so," Dean replied.
Sam sighed. "So, I guess we're dealing with Mr. and Mrs. God." Dean nodded. "Nice to know."
The Carrigans' entered the kitchen, dressed in colorful Christmas-themed sweaters.
Madge spoke. "Ooh, and here we thought you two lazybones were gonna sleep straight through all the fun stuff." She giggled.
"Miss all this? Nah, we're partiers," Dean said.
Mr. Carrigan smoked his pipe. "Isn't he a kick in the pants, honey? You're Hunters, is what you are."
"And you're pagan gods. So, why don't we just call it even and go our separate ways?"
"What, so you can bring more hunters and kill us?" He laughed. "I don't think so."
"Maybe you should have thought of that before you went snacking on humans," Sam shot back.
"Oh now, don't get all wet."
"Oh, why, we used to take over a hundred tributes a year and that's a fact," Madge said, putting a napkin on Dean's lap. "Now what do we take? What, two? Three?" She put another napkin on Sam's lap.
"Hardy Boys here make it five."
"Now, that's not so bad, is it?"
"Well, you say it like that -- I guess you guys are the Cunnighams," Dean commented.
Mr. Carrigan frowned. "You, mister, better show us a little respect."
"Or what? You'll eat us?" Sam retorted.
"Not so fast." He looked at Madge who looked excited. "There's rituals to be followed first."
"Oh, were just sticklers for ritual," Madge said.
"And you know what kicks off the whole shebang?" Madge smiled at her husband's words.
"Let me guess... meadowsweet," Dean replied.
"Oh!" Madge exclaimed.
"Oh shucks, you're all out of wreaths. I guess we'll just have to cancel the sacrifice, huh?" Dean suggested.
"Oh, don't be such a gloomy Gus." She put wreaths around Dean's and Sam's necks. "There. Ohh... Don't they just look darling?"
"Good enough to eat." Mr. Carrigan smacked his lips. "All righty-roo. Step number two."
Mr. Carrigan walked up to Sam with a knife and bowl. He held the knife under Sam's arm and prepared to cut him with the knife.
"Sammy?! Sammy?!" Dean called.
Mr. Carrigan sliced Sam's arm and collected his blood in the bowl.
"D-Don't!" Sam screamed.
"Leave him alone, you son of a bitch!" Dean yelled.
"Hear how they talk to us?" Mr. Carrigan asked. "To gods?" Madge took the knife and bowl. "Listen, pal, back in the day, we were worshiped by millions."
"Times have changed!"
"Tell me about it. All of a sudden, this Jesus character is the hot new thing in town. All of a sudden, our -- our altars are being burned down, and we're being hunted down like common monsters."
"But did we say a peep?" Madge questioned. "Oh... no, no, no, we did not." Mr. Carrigan added something to Sam's blood in the bowl. "Two millennium." Mr. Carrigan picked up a tool. "We kept a low profile; we got jobs, a mortgage. Wh-What was that word, dear?"
"We assimilated."
"Yeah, we assimilated. Why, we play bridge on Tuesday and Fridays." She held a large knife. "We're just like everybody else."
Dean glared at Madge. "You're not blending in as smooth as you think, lady."
"This might pinch a bit, dear." She came closer to Dean and sliced his arm just like Mr. Carrigan had done to Sam.
"You bitch!"
"Oh, my goodness me! Somebody owes a nickel to the swear jar. Oh, do you know what I say when I feel like swearing?" Dean looked Madge in the eyes. ""Fudge.""
"I'll try and remember that!"
"You boys have no idea how lucky you are," Mr. Carrigan said. "There was a time when kids came from miles around, just to be sitting where you are." He stood in front of Sam with the tool.
"What do you think you're doing with those?" Sam asked in a panicked tone, causing Mr. Carrigan to smile.
Dean looked at Madge. "You fudging touch me again and I'll fudging kill you!"
"Very good!" Madge complimented, slicing Dean's other arm and he groaned in pain. Mr. Carrigan grabbed Sam's hand.
"No!" Sam cried. "Don't."
Mr. Carrigan pulled the nail off Sam's index finger and Sam screamed. He held up the nail. "Oh, we got a winner!"
The Carrigans' put all the ingredients in the bowl and stirred them.
"What else, dear?" Madge asked.
Mr. Carrigan thought for a moment. "Well, let's see. Uh, fingernail, blood. Oh..." He hit his own head. "Sweet Peter on a popsicle stick," he laughed, "I forgot the tooth."
"Oh, dear!"
Dean breathed hard. "Merry Christmas, Sam." Sam groaned.
Mr. Carrigan picked up pliers and grabbed Dean's chin. "Open wide... and say, "Aaah."" He put the pliers into Dean's mouth and Dean groaned. The doorbell rang.
Dean, with the pliers in his mouth, said, "Somebody gonna get that?" Madge and Mr. Carrigan looked at each other; Sam looked relieved. "You should get that."
Mr. Carrigan sighed. "Come on."
Dean sighed in relief and ran his tongue around his teeth.
The Carrigans' opened the front door. A neighbor wearing a green reindeer sweater rung a bell and held out a fruitcake.
"Merry Christmas!" The neighbor gave Madge the fruitcake.
"I told you I smelled fruitcake," Mr. Carrigan said.
Madge looked grateful. "You shouldn't have."
"Oh, bite your tongue, it's my pleasure," the neighbor replied.
"It looks scrumptious!" Mr. Carrigan told the neighbor.
"Say, Neal and I are going caroling. You care to join?"
"You know we would--" Madge began.
Mr. Carrigan cut her off. "B-but it's my back. Darn thing's giving me fits."
"Oh, well, that's a shame," the neighbor said. "Oh well, Merry Christmas."
"And to you too, dear," Madge replied.
"Hey, are we still on for bridge tomorrow?"
"With bells on!" Mr. Carrigan answered.
"Yes! Okay! Bye!"
"Bye-bye."
They broadened fake smiles. When the neighbor was gone, Mr. Carrigan dropped the fruitcake and stepped on it on the way back to the kitchen.
Madge and Mr. Carrigan opened the door to the kitchen and hurried inside.
"Now, where were we?" Madge asked.
Sam and Dean were no longer in their chairs. The two doors to the kitchen closed. Sam and Dean were behind them and stood with their backs to the doors as the Carrigans' tried to open them. Dean pulled out a drawer to hold his door closed and went to help Sam.
Dean leaned one hand against the door. "What do we do now? The evergreen stakes are in the basement!"
"Well, we need more evergreen, Dean!" Sam yelled, looking at the Christmas tree. "I think I just found us some." He looked at a large cabinet next to the door. "Help me get this."
Sam and Dean moved the cabinet in front of the door, then started pushing the Christmas tree over. They broke branches from the tree to use as stakes. All was silent when they approached the kitchen. Suddenly, Mr. Carrigan tackled Dean to the ground.
Madge walked up to Sam and Saoirse. "You little things." Her face momentarily distorted. "I loved that tree."
Sam raised his stake. Madge hit Sam's head and he crashed into the couch and onto the floor. Madge walked closer to Sam and he hit her with the branches. Madge was about to attack Sam when he stabbed her with the Christmas tree stake.
Mr. Carrigan looked at his wife and screamed, "Madge!"
Sam pushed the stake deeper and Madge groaned while Dean took the opportunity and hit Mr. Carrigan with the branches. Sam pushed the stake in further and Madge fell to the ground, dead. Dean stabbed Mr. Carrigan twice and he screamed in pain. He laid dead next to his wife. Sam breathed heavily while Dean sighed in relief. They looked at the dead bodies.
"Merry Christmas," Dean said, looking at Sam who smiled briefly and sighed.
MOTEL
It was snowing outside. Sam was asleep and Dean shook him.
"Sam, wake up!" Dean called and Sam woke. "Dad was here. Look what he brought."
Dean looked around at a little Christmas tree, decorated with a few lights.
"Dad was here?" Sam asked.
"Yeah. Look at this, we made a killing."
Sam yawned. "Why didn't he try to wake me up?"
"He tried to, like a thousand times."
"He did?"
Dean nodded. "Yeah. Did I tell you he would give us Christmas, or what?" Sam looked around. "Go on, dive in."
Sam jumped out of his bed and hurried to the Christmas tree. He found two presents wrapped with Christmas-themed gift wrap. One had a green shiny bow. Sam sat on the couch and unwrapped his first gift. Dean sat on the other end of the couch and watched excitedly.
Dean smiled. "What is it?"
"Sapphire Barbie," Sam said.
Dean chuckled. "Dad probably thinks you're a girl."
"Shut up!" He threw the Barbie to the ground.
"Open that one."
Sam opened the other present and found a cheerleading stick. He looked at Dean. "Dad never showed, did he?"
"Yeah, he did, I swear."
"Dean... Where'd you get all this stuff?"
Dean realized he couldn't lie anymore and looked down. "Nice house up the block." Sam looked away. "I swear I didn't know they were chick presents." Sam nodded. "Look, I'm sure Dad would have been here if he could."
"If he's alive."
"Don't say that. Of course he's alive. He's Dad."
Sam nodded and Dean looked sad.
Sam took the present he'd wrapped from the pocket of a jacket that was lying over the arm of the couch and held it out to Dean. "Here, take this."
"No," Dean replied. "No, that's for Dad."
"Dad lied to me. I want you to have it." He continued to hold out the gift.
Dean looked at it and at Sam. "You sure?"
Sam nodded. "I'm sure."
"Thank you, Sam. I-I love it." Dean put on the necklace and Sam nodded.
MOTEL ROOM
Dean walked into the room, surprised that Sam had decorated the room with a Christmas tree and a Merry Christmas sign.
"Hey, you get the beer?" Sam asked, holding up a cup of eggnog as he pointed to another one.
Dean looked amazed. "What's all this?" He looked at the decorations in the room.
"What do you think it is? It's -- it's Christmas."
Dean looked at Sam who let out a deep breath. Deanna ran up to her father who picked her up.
"What made you change your mind?"
Sam didn't answer and instead said, "Here, uh, try the eggnog." He handed Dean a cup. "Let me know if it needs more kick." He held out a bottle of whiskey, looking at Dean.
Dean sipped it and looked surprised at the taste. "No, we're good."
"Yeah?" Sam asked happily.
Dean smiled. "Yeah."
"I has?" Deanna asked.
"Sorry, no. This has a grown-up drink in it."
"Cof-cof?"
"No, the other one."
"Siwy one?"
"Yeah, the silly one."
When Sam looked away, Dean changed his expression, like it tasted toxic and earned a laugh from Deanna and a smile from Juliette.
"Good," Dean said. "Well, uh, have a seat. Let's do... Christmas stuff, or whatever." He looked at the Christmas tree, which was decorated with lights and car air fresheners.
Dean nodded, happy. "All right, first things first." Sam sat on the couch and Dean pulled up a chair. Deanna sat on her father's lap. Juliette sat next to them in her wheelchair. He took two packages wrapped in brown paper from a plastic bag and held them out to Sam. "Merry Christmas, Sam."
Sam took the gifts. "Where'd you get these?"
"Someplace special." Sam looked at him. "The gas mart down the street." Sam laughed. "Open them up." He pulled out a brown paper wrapped gift. "This is yours, Jules." He handed another bag to Deanna. "And this one is yours."
"Well, great minds think alike. Dean." Sam reached under the couch for two packages wrapped in newspaper and gave them to Dean.
Juliette reached next to her and handed Dean a bagged item. "Like he said..." She handed a bag to Deanna. "This is yours, Dena."
"Really?" Dean asked, surprised as he took the gifts.
"There you go," Sam and Deanna said.
"Come on," Dean told them.
Sam opened his first gift, which was two porn magazines and laughed. "Skin mags!" Dean nodded, satisfied with Sam's reaction. "And..." He opened the other gift. "Shaving cream."
"You like?"
Sam smiled. "Yeah. Yeah." He nodded and opened the gift from Juliette. "A couple law books."
"You like 'em?" Juliette asked.
Sam nodded. "I do."
Dean opened his gifts next. He chuckled and unwrapped the gifts from Sam first. "Look at this." He lifted his presents; it was a candy bar and a bottle of oil. "Fuel for me and fuel for my baby." Sam nodded. "These are awesome, thanks." He opened Juliette's gift. "Jerky and beer. I guess you know me pretty well, honey."
Juliette was next to go. She opened the gift from Sam first. "Mystery books. Thanks, Sam." She opened her gift from Dean. "Oh, birch beer and some favorite snacks. Thank you."
Deanna, who had been impatiently waiting, opened her gifts. From her uncle she'd gotten some books. From her father, a stuffed bear and a plastic tiara. From her mother, a Barbie. She put on the crown and looked at the Barbie.
"What do you say?" Dean asked.
"Fank you!" Deanna chirped, holding up the bear and the Barbie.
Sam nodded. "Good." His expression turned sad.
Dean lifted his glass of eggnog before he said, "Merry Christmas, bro."
"Yeah." Sam lifted his eggnog and toasted Dean's glass. "Here, Merry Christmas."
The three fell silent, knowing it would be their last Christmas together. They both took a drink of their eggnog and Dean whistled softly at the taste.
"Hey, Dean, Jules," Sam called, looking sad about to say something before hesitating, sighing, and looked at his brother and sister-in-law again. "Do you two feel like watching the game?"
Juliette shrugged. "Sure, why not."
Dean smiled. "Absolutely."
Sam nodded. "All right."
He stood and turned on the TV. They watched the winter football game. Sam glanced at Dean, Juliette and Deanna and they smiled. Dean glanced at Sam and took another drink of his eggnog. Juliette leaned as close to Dean as she could. Deanna cuddled in her father's arms, cuddling her bear.