FIC: Once Upon a Christmas Eve
Dec. 17th, 2007 01:25 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ficwizeTitle: Once Upon a Christmas Eve
Fandom: Supernatural
Prompt: Day 16 (Harlequin Week)- The Beast Within at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
undermistletoe; also 74 - nowhere at tamingthemuse
Warnings: None
Pairing: John/Mary
Word Count: ~2,000
Rating: General
Summary: Christmas time is the time for family.
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.
A/N: Many, many thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dhark_charlotte who salvaged this fic from the mess it was and helped beat it into something decent. As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated!
************************
After the twentieth time seven year old Sam asked after his father, Jim Murphy left Dean in charge and went in search of John Winchester. It wasn’t a difficult search since the only business open in this small twon on Christmas Eve was the bar. Jim pushed through the door with a sigh and went to join his friend at the bar. Catching the bartender’s eye, Jim signaled for a beer. The relieved looking man behind the counter hurried to obey, glad to be turning over care of the obviously intoxicated patron who was steadily working his way through a bottle of bourbon.
“John.” Jim shrugged out of his coat as he sat and laid his hat and gloves on the surface. “Your boys are missing you.”
Despite being three sheets to the wind, John did not look at all surprised to find Jim occupying the stool next to him. “They’re better off without me tonight.”
“It’s Christmas Eve.” Jim answered, sipping from his beer. “You’re supposed to be with family.”
John shook his head blearily. “No… if that were true, then…” he trailed off and focused his attention on splashing more bourbon into his glass. For a long moment, the two sat, their silence a testament to the woman they were both thinking about. As Jim neared the bottom of his beer, he turned to face his friend.
“Mary wouldn’t want you to spend Christmas Eve alone in a bar. Come home with me. Sober up. See your boys and tell them about the Christmas miracle and Santa Clause. Let them believe in the magic while they’re still kids.”
John snorted, his voice bitter. “There is no magic. Not the kind you’re talking about. The only type of magic is the sort we’re be better off not running into tonight.” He leaned forward, staring moodily into his glass. “Leave me alone.”
Knowing that he wasn’t going to get anywhere with John when he was in this mood, Jim stood. He took one last swallow of his beer and called the bar tender over. Taking a pen from his pocket, he grabbed a cocktail napkin and wrote an address on it. “Have a cab take him to this address when he’s done drinking.”
Pulling his jacket back on, Jim leaned over and clapped John on the back. “You used to believe in the magic of Christmas, John. You used to believe in family. Remember that.”
John didn’t answer as Jim left the bar. Instead, he poured himself yet another slug of bourbon and drank it quickly, hoping that this shot would be the one that numbed the ache in his chest.
**************
The truth was that John Winchester could remember every detail of the very first Christmas he spent with Mary. They had a crappy apartment, complete with a bathroom faucet that leaked no matter what John did to fix it and pipes that creaked like they were going to implode whenever Mary turned on their washing machine. None of that had mattered on Christmas Eve. They both had the day off and they had spent it baking Christmas cookies, while Mary scolded him playfully for eating the dough.
That night, he had given her the gift he’d worked so many hours of over time for – a small pendant with tiny diamonds lighting up the points of the Christmas star engraved on it. She had cried and he had kissed away her tears. Then, they had made love to the sounds of Frank Sinatra and Bing Crosby in front of scores of candles. He still remembered that she had smelled of vanilla and cinnamon and tasted like sugar cookies.
Outside, snow blanketed the normally drab gray town with a covering of magical whiteness that masked all the negativity. The moon lit the town and when Mary stood in front of the window it illuminated her and made her glow. John had climbed from the bed and crossed to stand behind her, his arms wrapping around her and pulling her close, their naked skin touching, caressing, and whispering their vows even though they stood silently. The sound of church bells rang at midnight, greeting the Christmas season. Silently, she turned in his arms and reached up to pull his head down. Pressing a kiss lightly on his lips, she leaned back and smiled. “I love you, John Winchester.”
“I love you, Mary Winchester.”
That moment had been the most perfect of John’s life.
**************
John knew that he was not the best father in the world. As he finished the bottle of bourbon, he contemplated the reality that his boys had spent too much time in the back of a car, too much time in weapons training and learning how to fight the things that hid in the shadows; and entirely too little time being children. Christmas, more than any other time of year, was meant for children.
John wasn’t able to stare down the darkness inside of him long enough to believe in the magic anymore, but he did his best for the boys, making sure that they spent the holiday with Jim. Jim, who went out of his way to do those things that made memories – Santa Clause and hot chocolate, cookies and decorations, and most importantly, laughter and love. That was why he’d taken his boys to Jim’s house before he’d driven to the bar.
**************
“Daddy?” Sammy tugged on his shirt sleeve sleepily. “Will Santa find us at Uncle Jim’s house?”
“Of course he will, son.” John tried to keep his voice light as he pulled into the farm. A glance in the rearview mirror showed Dean staring sullenly out the right side window. “What did you ask for, Dean?”
The older boy shrugged and leaned his forehead against the window, staring into the darkness. Sam turned around, peering over the seat. “Tell me, Dean,” he begged.
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Sure it does,” John answered, watching Dean in the rearview even as he navigated the bumpy road that led to Jim’s farmhouse. “Santa usually comes through for you.”
Dean shrugged again and turned to glare at his father. “He’s not even…”
“Dean!” John cut him off sharply. “You’re on thin ice.”
Sam stared between them, confused, and Dean turned away from his father’s stern gaze to stare out of the window again. “I didn’t ask him for anything, okay? There’s nothing I want that he can give me.”
The rest of the drive was spent in tense silence and when they arrived at the farmhouse, Dean raced inside, passed a surprised Jim, and out of John’s sight. Frustrated, John slammed his car door. Sammy climbed out of the other side of the car and scurried up the stairs to hug Jim. He ruffled Sammy’s hair and sent the boy inside while he went to diffuse the anger seething from hunter standing at the bottom of the stairs.
“What was that about?” Fairly sure of the answer, it was obvious that Jim tried to keep his tone neutral.
John pulled the bags out of the backseat and dropped them on the ground with a thud and growled. “Dean thinks he’s a teenager instead of an eleven year old?”
Jim chuckled and picked up one of the bags. “Come inside, I’ll get you some coffee.”
“I’m going into town.” John carried the other two bags up the stairs and dropped them inside the door. “Dean! Get back here and carry in these bags!”
“John, it’s Christmas Eve,” Jim sounded dismayed and John turned to glare at him from the door.
“All the more reason that I don’t need to be here.” John brushed by Jim on his way back to the car. “I’ll be back later.”
“John, your boys miss you. If you want to know why Dean’s acting up, think about that. He doesn’t want you to leave on Christmas Eve.”
John stopped; his hand on the door handle and he glared at the snow that was starting to fall, irrationally angry at anything that reminded him of Mary. “You don’t always get what you want.” John sat inside the car for a long minute, aware that Jim was watching him from the porch. When Sammy came back outside, John started the car and left.
**************
The man that sat down next to John after Jim left gave the drunken hunter a curious look before turning to the server and ordering a drink of his own. “Merry Christmas.” The other man’s voice was cultured and quiet and far too educated sounding to be heard in a place like the one John had picked to drink away the holiday.
John grunted, but his instincts, honed over years of hunting and years in the military didn’t let him dismiss the stranger. This guy just didn’t fit with what John had learned to expect.
“I know this isn’t the traditional celebration,” the man lifted his glass in a toast, seemingly unaware that John didn’t reciprocate, “but when you have no choice, sometimes you have to make do with the people you find along the way.”
Even through the fog of booze that comment stung. He had choices. He had other people who cared about him and wasn’t reliant on a stranger in a bar for company on Christmas Eve. He opened his mouth to say so, but shut it with a click, realizing that the man likely wouldn’t believe him. After all, who would believe a drunk on Christmas Eve who claimed that he had children and friends waiting for him at home? The drunk was obviously just that… a drunk who was either lying or whose family didn’t miss him.
Remembering Dean’s outburst and Jim’s explanation that his son had simply wanted John to stay at home, John sighed. He was a drunk – but he was a drunk whose family missed him. Shaking his head, John stood up. When the room swayed, he sat back down.
The bar tender came over to him. “Can I get you something?”
“Yeah,” John sighed. “Coffee. I need to sober up.”
“Ahh,” the stranger smiled at him. “You have somewhere to be after all?”
John nodded. “I want to see my kids.”
“Good idea.” The man sipped his drink. “T’is the season.”
**************
John walked back. The snowfall was light enough that he wasn’t worried about any danger of getting caught in a storm. When he arrived back at the farmhouse, he was freezing, but he was also sober. Opening the door, he saw Jim staring at him in shock.
“Did you walk back?”
“Yeah. I needed the air.”
“You’re crazy! It’s freezing outside.”
John smiled and unbuttoned his jacket. “I’ll live. And I didn’t want to miss Christmas morning with the boys.”
Jim studied him with a frown for a long moment then smiled back at him. “Good idea.”
“T’is the season.” John quoted the stranger with a wry shrug. “And you’re right. Mary wouldn’t have wanted me to spend Christmas Eve alone. Even more, she wouldn’t have wanted me to let our boys spend it without me.” He swallowed. “I miss her, though.”
“I know.” Jim threw another log on the fire and sat back down. “And you’ll always miss her. But don’t let her memory become the beast inside that swallows you all alive. There’s still magic in the world. You may just have to look for it harder.”
**************
John swooped down and grabbed his youngest son from behind, making him shriek in laughter. “That cookie is mine, Sammy-boy!”
“It’s one Santa left behind.” Sam protested.
“He left it for me, silly boy.” Winking at Dean, John wrestled away the cookie and took a big bite out of it. Dean grinned and joined his father and brother on the big bed that John had been sleeping in when Sam peeked around the door. Sam giggled and held the cookie out for John.
“Merry Christmas, Daddy.”
“Merry Christmas, Dad.” Dean allowed himself to be pulled into a three way hug that quickly turned into a tickling match. As both of his boys giggled madly, John thought to himself that he wouldn’t have to look that hard to find magic after all. He was home for the holidays and there was nowhere else he’d rather be.
Fandom: Supernatural
Prompt: Day 16 (Harlequin Week)- The Beast Within at
undermistletoe; also 74 - nowhere at tamingthemuseWarnings: None
Pairing: John/Mary
Word Count: ~2,000
Rating: General
Summary: Christmas time is the time for family.
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.
A/N: Many, many thanks to
dhark_charlotte who salvaged this fic from the mess it was and helped beat it into something decent. As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated!************************
After the twentieth time seven year old Sam asked after his father, Jim Murphy left Dean in charge and went in search of John Winchester. It wasn’t a difficult search since the only business open in this small twon on Christmas Eve was the bar. Jim pushed through the door with a sigh and went to join his friend at the bar. Catching the bartender’s eye, Jim signaled for a beer. The relieved looking man behind the counter hurried to obey, glad to be turning over care of the obviously intoxicated patron who was steadily working his way through a bottle of bourbon.
“John.” Jim shrugged out of his coat as he sat and laid his hat and gloves on the surface. “Your boys are missing you.”
Despite being three sheets to the wind, John did not look at all surprised to find Jim occupying the stool next to him. “They’re better off without me tonight.”
“It’s Christmas Eve.” Jim answered, sipping from his beer. “You’re supposed to be with family.”
John shook his head blearily. “No… if that were true, then…” he trailed off and focused his attention on splashing more bourbon into his glass. For a long moment, the two sat, their silence a testament to the woman they were both thinking about. As Jim neared the bottom of his beer, he turned to face his friend.
“Mary wouldn’t want you to spend Christmas Eve alone in a bar. Come home with me. Sober up. See your boys and tell them about the Christmas miracle and Santa Clause. Let them believe in the magic while they’re still kids.”
John snorted, his voice bitter. “There is no magic. Not the kind you’re talking about. The only type of magic is the sort we’re be better off not running into tonight.” He leaned forward, staring moodily into his glass. “Leave me alone.”
Knowing that he wasn’t going to get anywhere with John when he was in this mood, Jim stood. He took one last swallow of his beer and called the bar tender over. Taking a pen from his pocket, he grabbed a cocktail napkin and wrote an address on it. “Have a cab take him to this address when he’s done drinking.”
Pulling his jacket back on, Jim leaned over and clapped John on the back. “You used to believe in the magic of Christmas, John. You used to believe in family. Remember that.”
John didn’t answer as Jim left the bar. Instead, he poured himself yet another slug of bourbon and drank it quickly, hoping that this shot would be the one that numbed the ache in his chest.
**************
The truth was that John Winchester could remember every detail of the very first Christmas he spent with Mary. They had a crappy apartment, complete with a bathroom faucet that leaked no matter what John did to fix it and pipes that creaked like they were going to implode whenever Mary turned on their washing machine. None of that had mattered on Christmas Eve. They both had the day off and they had spent it baking Christmas cookies, while Mary scolded him playfully for eating the dough.
That night, he had given her the gift he’d worked so many hours of over time for – a small pendant with tiny diamonds lighting up the points of the Christmas star engraved on it. She had cried and he had kissed away her tears. Then, they had made love to the sounds of Frank Sinatra and Bing Crosby in front of scores of candles. He still remembered that she had smelled of vanilla and cinnamon and tasted like sugar cookies.
Outside, snow blanketed the normally drab gray town with a covering of magical whiteness that masked all the negativity. The moon lit the town and when Mary stood in front of the window it illuminated her and made her glow. John had climbed from the bed and crossed to stand behind her, his arms wrapping around her and pulling her close, their naked skin touching, caressing, and whispering their vows even though they stood silently. The sound of church bells rang at midnight, greeting the Christmas season. Silently, she turned in his arms and reached up to pull his head down. Pressing a kiss lightly on his lips, she leaned back and smiled. “I love you, John Winchester.”
“I love you, Mary Winchester.”
That moment had been the most perfect of John’s life.
**************
John knew that he was not the best father in the world. As he finished the bottle of bourbon, he contemplated the reality that his boys had spent too much time in the back of a car, too much time in weapons training and learning how to fight the things that hid in the shadows; and entirely too little time being children. Christmas, more than any other time of year, was meant for children.
John wasn’t able to stare down the darkness inside of him long enough to believe in the magic anymore, but he did his best for the boys, making sure that they spent the holiday with Jim. Jim, who went out of his way to do those things that made memories – Santa Clause and hot chocolate, cookies and decorations, and most importantly, laughter and love. That was why he’d taken his boys to Jim’s house before he’d driven to the bar.
**************
“Daddy?” Sammy tugged on his shirt sleeve sleepily. “Will Santa find us at Uncle Jim’s house?”
“Of course he will, son.” John tried to keep his voice light as he pulled into the farm. A glance in the rearview mirror showed Dean staring sullenly out the right side window. “What did you ask for, Dean?”
The older boy shrugged and leaned his forehead against the window, staring into the darkness. Sam turned around, peering over the seat. “Tell me, Dean,” he begged.
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Sure it does,” John answered, watching Dean in the rearview even as he navigated the bumpy road that led to Jim’s farmhouse. “Santa usually comes through for you.”
Dean shrugged again and turned to glare at his father. “He’s not even…”
“Dean!” John cut him off sharply. “You’re on thin ice.”
Sam stared between them, confused, and Dean turned away from his father’s stern gaze to stare out of the window again. “I didn’t ask him for anything, okay? There’s nothing I want that he can give me.”
The rest of the drive was spent in tense silence and when they arrived at the farmhouse, Dean raced inside, passed a surprised Jim, and out of John’s sight. Frustrated, John slammed his car door. Sammy climbed out of the other side of the car and scurried up the stairs to hug Jim. He ruffled Sammy’s hair and sent the boy inside while he went to diffuse the anger seething from hunter standing at the bottom of the stairs.
“What was that about?” Fairly sure of the answer, it was obvious that Jim tried to keep his tone neutral.
John pulled the bags out of the backseat and dropped them on the ground with a thud and growled. “Dean thinks he’s a teenager instead of an eleven year old?”
Jim chuckled and picked up one of the bags. “Come inside, I’ll get you some coffee.”
“I’m going into town.” John carried the other two bags up the stairs and dropped them inside the door. “Dean! Get back here and carry in these bags!”
“John, it’s Christmas Eve,” Jim sounded dismayed and John turned to glare at him from the door.
“All the more reason that I don’t need to be here.” John brushed by Jim on his way back to the car. “I’ll be back later.”
“John, your boys miss you. If you want to know why Dean’s acting up, think about that. He doesn’t want you to leave on Christmas Eve.”
John stopped; his hand on the door handle and he glared at the snow that was starting to fall, irrationally angry at anything that reminded him of Mary. “You don’t always get what you want.” John sat inside the car for a long minute, aware that Jim was watching him from the porch. When Sammy came back outside, John started the car and left.
**************
The man that sat down next to John after Jim left gave the drunken hunter a curious look before turning to the server and ordering a drink of his own. “Merry Christmas.” The other man’s voice was cultured and quiet and far too educated sounding to be heard in a place like the one John had picked to drink away the holiday.
John grunted, but his instincts, honed over years of hunting and years in the military didn’t let him dismiss the stranger. This guy just didn’t fit with what John had learned to expect.
“I know this isn’t the traditional celebration,” the man lifted his glass in a toast, seemingly unaware that John didn’t reciprocate, “but when you have no choice, sometimes you have to make do with the people you find along the way.”
Even through the fog of booze that comment stung. He had choices. He had other people who cared about him and wasn’t reliant on a stranger in a bar for company on Christmas Eve. He opened his mouth to say so, but shut it with a click, realizing that the man likely wouldn’t believe him. After all, who would believe a drunk on Christmas Eve who claimed that he had children and friends waiting for him at home? The drunk was obviously just that… a drunk who was either lying or whose family didn’t miss him.
Remembering Dean’s outburst and Jim’s explanation that his son had simply wanted John to stay at home, John sighed. He was a drunk – but he was a drunk whose family missed him. Shaking his head, John stood up. When the room swayed, he sat back down.
The bar tender came over to him. “Can I get you something?”
“Yeah,” John sighed. “Coffee. I need to sober up.”
“Ahh,” the stranger smiled at him. “You have somewhere to be after all?”
John nodded. “I want to see my kids.”
“Good idea.” The man sipped his drink. “T’is the season.”
**************
John walked back. The snowfall was light enough that he wasn’t worried about any danger of getting caught in a storm. When he arrived back at the farmhouse, he was freezing, but he was also sober. Opening the door, he saw Jim staring at him in shock.
“Did you walk back?”
“Yeah. I needed the air.”
“You’re crazy! It’s freezing outside.”
John smiled and unbuttoned his jacket. “I’ll live. And I didn’t want to miss Christmas morning with the boys.”
Jim studied him with a frown for a long moment then smiled back at him. “Good idea.”
“T’is the season.” John quoted the stranger with a wry shrug. “And you’re right. Mary wouldn’t have wanted me to spend Christmas Eve alone. Even more, she wouldn’t have wanted me to let our boys spend it without me.” He swallowed. “I miss her, though.”
“I know.” Jim threw another log on the fire and sat back down. “And you’ll always miss her. But don’t let her memory become the beast inside that swallows you all alive. There’s still magic in the world. You may just have to look for it harder.”
**************
John swooped down and grabbed his youngest son from behind, making him shriek in laughter. “That cookie is mine, Sammy-boy!”
“It’s one Santa left behind.” Sam protested.
“He left it for me, silly boy.” Winking at Dean, John wrestled away the cookie and took a big bite out of it. Dean grinned and joined his father and brother on the big bed that John had been sleeping in when Sam peeked around the door. Sam giggled and held the cookie out for John.
“Merry Christmas, Daddy.”
“Merry Christmas, Dad.” Dean allowed himself to be pulled into a three way hug that quickly turned into a tickling match. As both of his boys giggled madly, John thought to himself that he wouldn’t have to look that hard to find magic after all. He was home for the holidays and there was nowhere else he’d rather be.
