CHAPTER SEVEN:
CHRISTMAS VACATION.

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'I'M REALLY DEAD, aren't I?'

That the first thing Birdie thought.

Her eyes fluttered open as memories came flooding back to her like a tidal wave, hearing the sound of Africa by Toto playing from a radio across the room. She slowly sat up on a soft surface, letting out a shaky breath, seeing that she'd been taken back to the motel that she'd gotten a room at for her and Rumsfeld, delicately placed in the middle of the bed.

She glanced around in confusion, unable to hear sounds from streets away or was being blinded by the bright sunlight streaming in from the window near the door.

How was that even possible? She shouldn't have even been alive.

She faintly shook her head as her thoughts drifted, starting to shift so she was sitting up with her legs dangling over the side of the bed. She heard a toilet flush, her eyes darting to the bathroom a few feet away. She shook her head in disbelief at how normal everything felt, reaching her hand up to her mouth to feel around inside. She felt for any fangs, but she couldn't feel anything aside from her normal teeth.

'What the fuck?' she thought, brows furrowing together.

She tensed when the door swung open, seeing Dean walk out while wiping his hands on a towel.

He halted when he saw her awake, lips parted in surprise as he took in her appearance. "Birdie?" he murmured, making his way over to the other bed to sit across from her. His eyes carefully examined her, meeting her gaze that was filled with just as much confusion as his. "What the hell happened back there?"

"Where's Sam and Rumsfeld?" she asked, noting that both Sam and Rumsfeld weren't in the room.

As if on cue, Sam suddenly walked in with Rumsfeld right beside him, his leash in Sam's hand. Rumsfeld eagerly sprinted into the room when he spotted Birdie awake, hopping onto the bed as his leash slipped from Sam's grasp.

Birdie let out a surprise yelp, giggling as he began to attack her with kisses, tail eagerly wagging back and forth with pure joy.

Sam's lips turned into a bright smile when seeing that Birdie was finally up, coming over to sit beside Dean.

Birdie giggled, shaking her head as she gently nudged Rumsfeld so he was laying beside her instead of partially on her lap and nearly pushing her off of the bed. She let out a sigh and placed her hand on his head, ruffling the fur. Her eyes snapped over to the brothers, seeing their eyes were pinned to her with questions they wanted answered.

"What can I say?" Birdie nonchalantly shrugged. "No time to die."

"What happened back there, Bird?" Sam questioned. "I mean, we-we know Gordon. . .turned you, but how'd he even find you in the first place?"

Birdie let out a heavy sigh, shaking her head as her eyes fell to the ground. "I. . .I got call from Bela——"

"Bela?" Dean repeated. "She called you?"

Birdie breathed out a chuckle, nodding her head; she could hardly believe it herself. "Yeah, but I don't think she would have if she didn't know I'd find out sooner or later that she was the one who told Gordon where you were in the first place."

"She admitted that?"

"She may be a lot of things, but she isn't dumb," Birdie replied, face falling seconds later. "Don't tell her I said that."

"I don't think you have to worry about that," Dean laughed.

"That still doesn't explain how Gordon got to you," Sam said.

Birdie nodded, pushing some hair out of her face. "Yeah, well, uh, during the call, Bela said she warned you two to leave, but she didn't think you'd listen to her. She thought maybe I could somehow get through to you dumbasses." She shifted, standing so she could finally stretch out her legs. She took a few steps to the side, standing near the edge of the bed as she faced the brothers. She still wasn't able to hear anything anymore than usual, unable to hear Sam and Dean's heartbeats. "So, I came down here as fast as possible, and I guess when I got a call from an unknown number the other night, it was him. I think he was gonna track me if. . .he couldn't get to you guys, but then I ended up coming to you. He found me outside the motel and knocked me out. Then I woke up in that factory——fucking chained to the ceiling again by a vampire!"

"Is that-is that when he changed you and the girl?"

Birdie shook her head, twisting her lips as she faced them. "I-I don't know when he changed her, but he'd already done it by the time I woke up. Then. . .then he did it to me." A tense moment of silence passed, Sam and Dean sharing a look when noticing Birdie's solemn expression. She shook her head, huffing. "I passed out not long after the call, and when I woke up, I-I felt fine. I thought maybe it didn't work, ya know, but I remember, uh, Sam. . .you were bleeding. . .that was when I first started to feel it, but I-I didn't feel any urges. . ."

"And you didn't vamp out," Dean said, brows furrowed together. "But why? Doesn't the bloodlust usually come next?"

Birdie shrugged, holding her hands out at her sides. "I mean, yeah, and I think it depends more on the person, but. . .once we were here was when. . .I should've just told you guys before we even left. What if I'd——"

"No, hey, don't start that shit," Dean quickly interjected, standing up beside the bed. "You're fine now, Bird. Me and Sam——we'd probably be dead if it weren't for you."

The corner of Birdie's lip tweaked upwards. "You're damn right."

"What I don't get is how-how you're——" Sam started, but was cut off by Birdie.

"Still breathing and repulsed by the idea of drinking blood?" Birdie finished for him, giving him a grin. "I have no fuckin' clue either."

"What'd it feel like?" Dean wondered, Sam now standing next to him. "You know, when you were——"

"When I was turning into a female version of Dracula?" Birdie scoffed, nonchalantly shrugging her shoulders. "It was super fucking weird. I, uh, everything was extremely loud like, uh, it was all just happening right next to me. It only got worse and worse. Everything was just too much. But. . .I remember hearing. . .your heartbeats," she confessed, slowly looking up at the brothers. "And. . .this'll sound really strange, but hearing that——I think that's what kept me. . .from thinking about the one thing all vamps think about."

"Well, we're really fuckin' glad you're okay," Dean said, letting out a breath of relief. Birdie nodded in agreement, smiling when he reached out to her for a hug. She happily hugged him back, but this time there was no sorrow on her face——only relief and happiness.

Sam softly smiled when Birdie expectantly turned towards him, already knowing that he was next. Birdie held him close once she tightly wrapped her arms around him, all three relieved that Birdie was okay.

"You wouldn't happen to have any idea how you're okay, though, would you?" Dean questioned the woman, tilting his head to the side.

Birdie shook her head. "No, not a clue. I thought maybe it was part of the process or something, but it-it almost felt like my body was rejecting itself. I know that doesn't make any sense, but I don't think anything about what happened made any sense."

"You could say that again," Dean murmured in agreement.

"Well I've never seen anything like that before, and we couldn't find a hex bag, so we can cross witch off the list. Even then, I don't think I know of anything that could've done that," Sam said, glancing between Birdie and Dean.

"Whatever it was, it still cured you," Dean said, looking aside at Birdie. "I double checked you before we brought you back here——"

"Hang on," Birdie hastily interjected, raising a suspicious brow towards Dean, "Does that mean you put your fingers in my mouth?"

Sam stifled a laugh, Dean giving Birdie a look. "I had to make sure."

Birdie gagged, scrunching up her face. "I hope you at least washed your hands first."

Dean dramatically rolled his eyes, waving his hand at her as he started to make his way towards the fridge.

Birdie shook her head, snickering under her breath. "How long was I out?"

"Almost two days," Sam answered.

Birdie's eyes widened, clearly not expecting that answer. "Wha——two days? Did. . .did you guys tell anyone?"

Sam sighed, following Dean towards the table with Birdie right behind him and eyes pinned to him. "Only Bobby," Sam answered, taking a seat at the table. Birdie sat in the chair on the other side, eyes still wide. "He didn't believe us at first, but he does now."

"And he also said not to tell anyone, and that includes Kai," Dean said, giving Birdie a look to make sure she wasn't already thinking about that. "He doesn't think anyone'll believe you were cured. So. . ."

"Yeah, I'm not plannin' on it anytime soon," Birdie said. She didn't even want to imagine how Kaiya would have reacted to hearing she was turned into a vampire but was somehow cured despite there not being any known cure.

"I don't know about you guys, but I'm starving," Dean said, looking between his brother and Birdie.

"I am, too," Birdie replied, not missing how Sam and Dean quickly glanced at each other. Birdie scoffed in disbelief, folding her arms over her chest. "Didn't I just say I'm not wanting to drink anyone's blood?"

"No, we know," Sam said, breathing out a laugh. "I just meant that you've been out for two days——we kinda expected it."

"How does pizza sound?" Dean asked. "I saw a pizza joint on the way in."

"Amazing," Birdie hummed.

Sam nodded in agreement. "Yeah, sounds good to me."

"How 'bout you, Rumsfeld?" Dean asked, patting the dog's head as he sat beside him on the floor.

Rumsfeld barked as if giving his approval to getting pizza, causing the three to laugh.

A thought suddenly occurred to Birdie as she moved over to her duffle bag on one of the beds, eyes snapping towards the brothers. "Oh, hey, by the way, what do you guys want for Christmas?"

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"This is complete and utter bullshit."

"Suck it up, Buttercup 'cause you're benched."

Birdie lightly scoffed, rolling her eyes as she moved across the motel room. It was now Christmas time, many houses decorated in festive lights with fake trees strung up in their living rooms with dozens of ornaments hanging from the branches. Snow was on and off all throughout the midwest, some hoping for a White Christmas while others hoped the snow would stay far, far away. Kids and teens were out of school for winter break, college kids now home for the holidays or staying on campus to keep their distance from their overwhelming or unhinged families. However, monsters didn't care about the holidays and continued to prey on their unsuspecting victims whenever the time struck.

"But I'm perfectly fine." Only a few seconds later Birdie sneezed not once, not twice, but thrice. She sniffled, huffing as Bobby remained silent on the phone as if saying she'd just proved his point. "Shut up."

"I didn't even say anything," Bobby snapped.

Birdie grumbled under her breath, moving so she was sitting on one of the beds that faced the door. Sam and Dean were off to interview a distraught family, having left Birdie at the motel to do research as they felt it'd be best she hung back from interacting with people until she was feeling better. She'd taken almost two weeks off from hunting after her little brush with being a blood-sucker, needing some time to make sure everything was back on track and something hadn't been done to simply "hide" the vampiric traits Gordon had not so kindly given her against her will.

She stayed at Bobby's during that time, keeping the house stocked and cleaned as a way of keeping herself busy while she was unable to hunt. Bobby certainly didn't mind someone else taking care of his house or keeping Rumsfeld entertained, but he could tell she was growing antsy the longer she stayed there. Acting as an on-call researcher or a law enforcement supervisor hadn't been all that exciting either, but it was rather nice to not be the one having to face the actual monster for once.

And, when the brothers asked her if she wanted to join them for one more before the new year, she couldn't say no. However, as it turned out, she'd caught a cold just as they arrived to Ypsilanti, Michigan where a man had disappeared during the night. His wife said she'd heard thump on the roof while she and her daughter were in the rooms, followed by the sound of her husband screaming in the living room where he'd been decorating their Christmas tree. All of the doors and windows had been locked for night, but somehow something had snatched the man.

Birdie had every intention of going along with Sam and Dean to interview the wife, but with her having a slight fever and sneezing at least five times each hour, she'd been demoted to the stay-at-motel researcher. She swore she felt fine, but neither brother believed her, and it seemed she didn't even believe herself either when the words left her mouth.

She didn't put up much of a fight when they suggested she stay, knowing she wouldn't miss much since they were simply going to go interview the victim's family. If they found anything or needed some information, they'd give her a call, but she hadn't heard from either of them in a couple of hours——which was making her feel slightly antsy.

She didn't like not going, having felt like she'd spent enough time away from hunting as it was, but maybe the universe didn't seem to think she was quite ready still.

She was growing rather bored as she waited for them to return, unsure of what to do; if she'd had her guitar or her sketch book, she probably would've played a few tunes or drawn, but both items were at Bobby's. She'd already attempted to find something online about what they could've been dealing with to pass the time, but looking at the screen only made her head hurt worse so she'd closed her laptop and pushed it off to the side. Trying to read any of the lore books was out of the question as well, leaving her to feel completely useless as she wandered around the small motel room, thoughts wandering from one topic to another.

She was desperate to try and help out, but she wasn't sure what that was, and Bobby wasn't any help as he'd reminded her she wasn't meant to leave the room until she felt better.

She shook her head after a few moments, laying back on the bed she'd agreed to share with Dean. Apparently he'd asked her when she was half-asleep on their way there and she agreed, but she didn't remember, nor did she really mind that much. "I'll talk to you later, Bobby," she softly said, closing her eyes. "Dumb and Dumber should be back soon, anyways."

"Alright, keep me in the loop, will ya?" he asked.

"'Course," Birdie replied. "See ya, Bobby."

"Feel better, kiddo."

The call ended and Birdie sat her phone off to the side of her, twisting her lips as she sat up on her elbows. She sneezed letting out a huff as she sniffled, her nose scrunched upwards.

She took some medicine when she first woke up, but she wasn't sure if it was doing much though. Her eyes flickered over to the TV that she'd turned on almost as soon as Sam and Dean left to fill the silence, seeing National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation was just beginning.

A faint frown appeared on her lips, watching the cartoon intro begin with the jolly tune playing along.

She always admired Christmas and often got presents for those closest to her, but she wasn't exactly feeling the holiday spirit at the moment. She thought it might've been because it was most likely the last Christmas with Dean around, but she had a feeling there was another reason. And, as she heard a sudden shout from a nearby room, she realized why.

The small town was covered with pure white snow, a blizzard still raging on outside and preventing anyone from going anywhere that Christmas. A majority of roads were covered with slippery ice, the winter weather having come to the Columbus, Nebraska area sooner than Serena Fowler had been expecting, giving her no time to get a head start on a hunt in warmer weather.

She was trapped inside the small motel room, and she would be for the next couple of days until the roads weren't as slick. Christmas Vacation was playing on the TV off to the side, but it had been muted since Serena found it annoying and claimed it was her least favorite Christmas film of all time; Reese and Birdie would have disagreed, however.

     "I can still go to the store——grab some small decorations and p——"

"Why? It's not like we're gonna be here long enough to celebrate. We're leaving as soon as possible."

Reese Fowler heavily sighed, stealing a glance towards his daughter who was sound asleep on the second bed, curled up in the blanket with her chest slowly rising and falling, sniffling every so often. Reese turned his gaze away from his young daughter, looking towards his wife who was adamant on trying to find a nearby case while she sat across from him at the table.

"Honey," Reese softly said, reaching his hand stretched out to place it on top of hers, causing her to look over at him and away from the newspaper she had clutched in her hands, "We're gonna be here for a few days at the least. And we finally get a chance to celebrate. . ."

"Reese," Serena heavily sighed, a deep frown on her lips, "It's only Christmas. There'll be plenty more to come where she can watch movies or-or wrap silly presents."

"Yeah, but we've never gotten to celebrate it as a family——not like other families. Why shouldn't we take advantage of that? Besides, Bird's still sick. She needs to stay in one place for a few days."

"She'll be fine," Serena shortly replied, visibly growing frustrated by her husband's persistence to stay when there were more lives on the line elsewhere. "It's just Christmas, Reese——that's not important!"

"But to her it is!" Reese firmly said, gesturing towards Birdie's sleeping figure. Serena rolled her eyes, leaning back in the chair with the newspaper now placed on the table. "She's only a kid for so long, Ren. She's already been put through more than she should at her age. . .she deserves at least one Christmas to just-to just be a kid!"

"Monsters don't care what time of the year it is or how old someone is, or if they're sick——sometimes they prefer that," Serena hastily snipped out, eyes narrowing on her husband. "All they care about is themselves, and I'm not going to treat our daughter like the world isn't dangerous because it fucking is, Reese. I don't know why you're so god damn insistent on this. The sooner we get moving, the sooner she'll get to feeling better——trust me."

Across the room, a seven year old Birdie was frowning to herself as she listened to her parents bicker back and forth. Tears were blossoming in her eyes, the blanket pulled tight around her frame to keep her warm from the winter chill that still managed to creep inside the room. She was facing away from her parents, and in that moment she was thankful. She didn't want either of them to see she was awake and eavesdropping on their conversation. It wasn't the first time she'd done it, and it most likely wouldn't be the last, but she couldn't help but cling onto her mothers words as she insisted they still leave despite the raging snow storm just outside.

All Birdie wanted was to actually celebrate Christmas. With the storm going on with no end in sight yet and her being sick, she'd thought just maybe they would've been able to finally have one, but it seemed like she wasn't going to get to celebrate Christmas after all.

Birdie shook her head and splashed some cold water on her face, dabbing at it with a towel. She exited the bathroom, pushing memories of Christmas 1991 aside for the time being. She was finally starting to feel the effects of the medicine, her headache starting to subside while her nose started to dry and wasn't as runny as before. Sam and Dean were now on their way back as well, having called her to tell her they'd found a bloody tooth in the chimney. None of them knew what it meant yet, but there was one thing they were certain about——they'd have to do some research if they wanted answers.

Pictures of Christmas-related demons were pinned up on one of the walls along with information about the recent victim——all possible creatures they could've been dealing with. A map was peeking out behind some of the photos, the victim's home marked to have in case the location had something to do with how the creature was getting around or picking the victims.

Birdie and Sam were left to do more research while Dean went out to get them some food. In that time, they managed to find a few possible leads while the oldest Winchester was gone;, it was more Sam finding information while Birdie struggled to stay focused on what she had pulled up on her screen. Sam had chuckled and told her she should probably get some sleep, but she simply brushed him off and continued to try to find some answers.

When Dean returned to the motel almost an hour later, he saw Sam and Birdie were seated on the couch, their laptops still open. Birdie had her legs crossed and tucked under her with her body facing Sam, laptop placed in her lap and the brightness turned down almost all the way and her eyes raking over the same words like they'd suddenly make sense or click something inside her head. A thin blanket was draped over her shoulders, blonde hair pulled back so it was out of her face. She was looking better, but that didn't mean she actually was.

Dean walked inside the room, carrying a brown paper bag under his arm. "So, was I right?" he wondered, setting the bag on the table near the door as he turned his head towards Sam and Birdie. "Is it the serial-killing chimney sweep?"

"Yep. It's, uh, it's actually Dick Van Dyke," Sam sarcastically replied, making Birdie lightly chuckle.

"Who?" Dean asked, making a face as if he didn't know who Sam was talking about.

"Mary Poppins?" Sam said, looking at Dean. Birdie deeply frowned, seeing Dean's confusion only increase.

"Who's that?" Dean wondered.

"Oh, come on——never mind," Sam said, dismissively waving his hand; he didn't feel like explaining it. Birdie let out a faint huff, shaking her head with disappointment. Who didn't know what Mary Poppins was?

"Well, it turns out that Walsh is the second guy in town grabbed out of his house this month," Dean said, moving towards one of the beds while he took off his jacket.

Sam and Birdie turned their heads to follow him, Sam's arm stretched across the back of the couch.

"Really?" Birdie asked.

"Yeah."

"The other guy get dragged up the chimney, too?" Sam wondered.

"Don't know. Witnesses said they heard a thump on the roof," Dean answered, shrugging his shoulders. Birdie and Sam faintly nodded. It fit with what the recent victims' wife said with her hearing a thump on the roof before her husband was snatched. "So, what the hell do you two think we're dealing with?"

"Actually, we have an idea," Sam said.

"Yeah? Both of you?"

Birdie shrugged. "I mean it sorta works."

"And, uh, it's gonna sound crazy," Sam said.

"What could you possibly say that sounds crazy to me?" Dean questioned with a small smile; they'd all seen a lot of strange things in their line of work——nothing was exactly too crazy, or so they usually thought until something even more strange happened.

"Um. . .evil Santa," Sam answered, faintly smiling while his dimples slightly poked out.

Dean paused, nodding his head. "Yeah, that's crazy."

"Yeah. . .I mean, I'm just saying that there's some version of the anti-Claus in every culture," Sam explained, picking up some images he and Birdie had printed and handing them over to Dean for him to examine. "You got Belsnickel, Krampus——whatever you want to call it, there's all sorts of lore."

"Saying what?"

"Apparently, once upon a time, Santa's brother went rogue and now he shows up around Christmas, but instead of bringing presents, he punishes the wicked," Birdie softly answered, recalling what Sam had told her.

"By hauling their ass up chimneys?" Dean asked, scrunching up his face as he moved back towards the table.

"For starters, yeah," Sam said.

"So, this is your guys' theory, huh? Santa's shady brother?"

"Well, ah——I'm just saying, that's what the lore says."

"Santa doesn't have a brother. There is no Santa."

Birdie heavily sighed, shaking her head; that was pretty close to how her mother had told her there really was no Santa.

"Yeah, I know. You're the one who told me that in the first place, remember?" Sam told Dean, his eyes on his brother. Dean briefly looked down, almost appearing guilty all of a sudden. Sam turned back to his computer, letting out a sigh while Birdie sent Dean a faint smile. "Yeah, you know what, I could be wrong. I. . ." he sighed again, reaching forward and closing his laptop, "gotta be wrong."

"Maybe, maybe not," Dean suddenly said, stepping towards the couch with the photos in hand.

"Wait really?" Birdie asked. She sneezed a few seconds later, another one escaping just seconds later and making her groan in annoyance.

"Gesundheit," Dean said, giving her a look.

Sam chuckled, clearly amused. "Bless you."

"Thanks," Birdie muttered, closing her laptop and setting it on the coffee table.

"Anyways," Dean started, "I did a little digging——turns out both victims visited the same place before they got snatched."

"Where?"

"Who the hell cares?" Birdie asked, shrugging the blanket off to go find a jacket. "I need to go out and stretch my legs."

"I'm not so s——"

"Dean, if you tell me I need to stay here I'm gonna shove my foot up your ass."

"I'd like to see you try," Dean retorted.

Birdie sharply spun on her heel, smirking when Dean slightly jumped back and his face fell. "That's what I thought."

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Santa's Village didn't exactly look how Birdie had pictured in her head.

Clouds lingered in the sky almost like there was a chance of snow or rain, the wind brushing through every few seconds and making it even colder than it already was. The workers were all dressed up in costumes to add to the holiday spirit——elves, reindeers, and snowmen——though there were only a few who were cheerful and seemed to actually enjoy their job. The once bright red paint on the buildings were faded, the wood starting to rot out.

Faint Christmas music played from speakers that were spread throughout the village, some of them crackling like they needed to be replaced or they'd stop working. A fenced area was near the back of the village by the restrooms where Birdie could see trees planted for families to pick out a tree for their home. A few families were wandering through the rows of trees, a few more working their way through the village to check out all they had to offer. And, it seemed Birdie wasn't the only one to notice how bland the place felt as they walked through the entrance after paying ten dollars each; which now seemed like too much as their eyes roamed over the bland village.

"It does kind of lend credence to the theory, don't it?" Dean asked as the three entered Santa's Village.

"You're tellin' me," Birdie murmured, stuffing her hands in the pockets of her jacket with a frown.

"Yeah, but anti-Claus?" Sam asked, scoffing. "Couldn't be."

"It's a Christmas miracle," Dean said, the three walking further on the gravel pathway, the rocks crunching beneath their feet. "Hey, speaking of——we should have one this year."

"Have one what?"

"A Christmas."

"Really?" Birdie asked in disbelief.

Despite not being in the most jolly mood, Birdie thought she'd still be the one closest to it out of the three of them. The brothers had never been big on Christmas——nor had Birdie after her father died——but ever since she started to be able to "borrow" things from stores or people who didn't feel a hand slipping into their pockets, Birdie had tried to get her friends presents. It wasn't much, but the thought was always appreciated by anyone who received her sometimes "out there" presents. Life as a hunter was hard and she never expected anything in return, but it always did warm her heart whenever she received something as well; Bobby, Sam, and Dean always gave her something, but with everything that was going on and it most likely being Dean's last Christmas, Birdie hadn't wanted to push it——aside from asking them both what they wanted since she was going to get or make them something regardless of what they said.

Sam breathed out a forced laugh, causing Birdie to glance over at him with curiosity. "No, thanks."

"No, we'll get a tree, a little Boston market——just like when we were little," Dean continued, apparently having put some thought into it.

"Dean, those weren't exactly Hallmark memories for me, you know."

Birdie twisted her lips in thought, silently nodding in agreement; both for her and the brothers. Birdie never had an enjoyable Christmas with her mother around, and she knew that it was almost the same for Sam and Dean——if John was even there to celebrate. They'd gotten better over the years, but Birdie could see why Sam wasn't wanting to do anything for the holiday.

"What are you talking about? We had some great Christmases," Dean said, only thinking of the ones where they'd been able to laugh and smile together and had been able to ignore any of the problems they had going on at the time. "Hell, Bird was even there for a few of them."

Birdie stammered, glancing between the brothers. She didn't have a problem putting her input into their conversations at times, but she wasn't exactly feeling it at that moment.

Sam slowed to a sudden stop, facing Dean and replying before Birdie could've even responded if she'd wanted to. "Whose childhood are you talking about?"

"Oh, come on, Sam," Dean said, a faint smile still on his lips as he stood in front of Sam, Birdie off to the side of him with her eyes flickering back and forth between them.

"No!" Sam firmly denied, faintly shaking his head. "Just. . .no."

Dean seemed surprised by the firmness in Sam's voice, turning his head before he continued walking through the village again. "All right, Grinch."

Dean kept walking, but Sam stayed still. Birdie lingered beside him, a frown apparent on her lips as she looked up at the older man. "You okay?" she asked.

Sam glanced down, seeing a reindeer's statue staring straight at him. "Yeah."

"Wow," Birdie breathed out, causing him to look over at her, "I almost believed that."

Sam heavily sighed, shaking his head. "It's nothin', Bird. You don't need to worry about me."

Birdie folded her arms over her chest, raising a brow. "I'll always worry about you, and Dean," she told him. Sam remained silent, eyes moving away to avoid her gaze. Birdie took a small step closer to him, causing him to look at her again. She stared up at him, a pleading look in her eyes. "You can talk to me, Sam."

"I know, but there's nothin' to talk about."

"Sam. . ."

"Have you had any more nightmares lately?" Birdie's face instantly fell at his words. Sam twisted his lips, tilting his head. "Dean didn't say anything to me, but I know he already knows."

Birdie shook her head, now being the one to look away. "How long have you known?"

"Since the second night in Massachusetts," Sam confessed.

Birdie sniffled slightly, the medicine already beginning to wear off. "Okay, fair enough."

     "You're not gonna——"

"Sam, I'm not gonna force you to talk about something if you don't want," she said, looking back at him. "But, if you want to. . ."

"And if you want to. . ."

Birdie gave him a playful look, looking back out at the village. She hadn't really talked about her nightmares since the morning Dean woke her up, not seeing the point in pondering over it. It wasn't the first time it happened and she already knew it wouldn't be the last; why dwell on it?

She let out a sigh, looking out at Santa's Village once again. Sam gave her a sheepish smile in return, the two looking out at the place as their thoughts suddenly drifted——both of them thinking of a specific Christmas.

A gentle shake made Birdie stir in her sleep after she'd managed to fall back asleep when her parents' voices quieted down and she was unable to hear what they were saying. Her eyes slowly fluttered open, seeing her father warmly smiling down at her as she groggily peered up at him. "Hey, kiddo," he softly greeted her, taking a seat on the bed across from her as she rolled on her side to face him better. "You feelin' any better?"

  Birdie gave him a faint smile, coughing a few moments later. "A lil," she quietly replied.

"Good," Reese said, brightly grinning back at his daughter. "Your Mom's gone to the store to get you some more medicine, and hopefully a few other things."

"Are we leaving again?" Birdie wondered, voice still faint.

Reese frowned, a faint sigh escaping past his lips as he realized she'd overheard him and Serena talking a little over an hour ago when they'd both thought she'd been sound asleep still. "No," he answered, standing up with a sigh. He sat next to her legs on her bed, his slender body turned so he was looking down at her with nothing but love shimmering in his brown eyes that were a shade darker than Birdie's. "Not tonight, anyways."

"But Mom said——"

"She's agreed to stay for a few days, or until the roads are cleared," Reese told Birdie, his smile widening when seeing Birdie's eyes light up. He breathed out a faint laugh, adjusting the blanket as it had slipped down on Birdie since she'd fallen back asleep. "Looks like——"

Reese and Birdie's heads snapped to the side at the sound of someone fiddling with the door handle, watching the door suddenly swing open.

Serena hurried inside, huffing as she shrugged some snow from her jacket-clad shoulders and shut the door behind her with one of her snow-covered boots. She had a few bags dangling in one of her hands, but not nearly as many as she and Reese had talked about just before she left.

"Honey?" Reese asked with concern, standing up with a frown now replacing the smile that had been on his lips. "Everything alright?"

"Mommy?" Birdie timidly called out, noticing the way her mother was quickly moving around the motel room and collecting their belongings like she was starting to pack up.

"We need to leave," Serena shortly stated, confirming Birdie's suspicions.

Reese heavily sighed, running a hand through his shaggy hair. "Serena, I thought we already talked——"

"We did, Reese, but. . ." Serena's voice dragged off, seeing Birdie staring at her with a frown. Serean sighed, looking towards Reese. "John needs our help."

Reese couldn't help but scoff at her response; of course it was hunting related. "Riiiight. John Winchester's a lone wolf——he doesn't play well with partners, remember?"

"I don't like him anymore than you do, hun, but he's only a couple hours away," Serena said, pleadingly looking up at her husband as she stood in front of him.

"What about our sick daughter?" Reese quietly asked, not wanting Birdie to overhear them anymore than she'd already. "I won't——"

"I've already talked to John about that," Serena hastily interjected, knowing what her husband was going to say next. "She won't be left alone."

Birdie's frown only deepened.

Where were they going to take her?

"I don't wanna leave," Birdie said, brows furrowed together.

"You don't have a choice," Serena snapped, head sharply turning towards her daughter when she spoke up. "We're leaving in ten minutes."

     "Why can't you just go——"

"I'm not arguing with you about this, Birdie! Now just do as you're told for f. . .pack your things. I won't tell you again."

"You'd think with the 10 bucks it costs to get into this place, Santa could scrounge up a little snow," Dean suddenly said, returning to Sam and Birdie after checking out some more of the village.

Birdie shifted her posture, realizing she hadn't actually heard a word of what Dean had said. And, apparently Sam hadn't either as he turned towards Dean with his brows furrowed together in confusion, blinking a few times as if coming back to reality from getting lost in his thoughts. "What?"

"Nothin'," Dean answered. "What are we looking for, again?"

"Um. . ." Sam started, glancing around the village as he slowly started to walk again and in between Dean and Birdie, "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?"

Birdie shuddered, scrunching up her face distastefully. "Gross."

"That's fuckin' creepy," Dean said after a few seconds, causing Sam and Birdie to breath out a chuckle. "How does this thing know who's been naughty and who's been nice?"

"I don't know."

They walked forward, stopping a little ways in front of a small barn that was set up for Santa to visit with the children. A man wearing a Santa Claus costume sat in a rickety chair out front, a little boy sitting on his lap. Off to the side was a little stand with a Christmas tree painted on it where kids and their families were able to pose, an "elf" standing behind a camera to take the photos.

"You been a good boy this year?" Santa asked the boy, his voice deep and gravely. It wasn't like any Santa Birdie or the boys had ever heard before.

"Yeah," the little boy answered with a grin.

"Good. Santa's got a special gift for you," he said, chuckling rather creepily as he patted the boys back.

Dean stared at the Santa, seeing the uneasiness on the little boy's face. "Maybe we do."

The little boy's mother came over, ushering him off of Santa's lap as another little kid stood off to the side while they waited for their turn. Birdie scrunched up her face, faintly shaking her head side to side.

Suddenly a pretty woman in an elf costume walked up to the trio with a kind smile displayed on her lips. "Welcome to Santa's court. Can I escort your child to Santa?"

Birdie raised a brow, curiously glancing around them to make sure a little kid hadn't decided to follow them for some reason and gave the woman the impression they had a kid with them.

"Uh. . ." Sam stammered.

"N-No. No. Uh, but actually my brother here," Dean said, smacking Sam on the shoulder, ". . .it's been a lifelong dream of his."

Sam rolled his eyes, shaking his head.

The woman looked at Sam, suddenly looking very uncomfortable. "Uh, sorry. No kids over. . .12."

"No, he's just kidding," Sam said, a nervous smile on his face. "We only came here to watch."

Birdie's eyes widened, giving Sam an incredulous look.

That was not a good response.

The woman looked at the three, a grimace appearing on her face as she began to back away from them. "Eww."

"I-I didn't mean that we came here to w——" Sam huffed, sharply turning his head towards Dean as the elf woman hurried away. "Thanks a lot, Dean. Thanks for that."

"You couldn't have just said we were trying to find a tree?" Birdie sighed, looking at the brothers.

"Then why the hell didn't you step in and say that?" Dean wondered, raising his brows at the younger woman.

Birdie huffed, rolling her eyes. "I-if I could've come up with that surely you two could have as well."

Dean wheezed out an amused laugh, his expression suddenly turning serious as he looked past Sam and Birdie. "Check it out." Sam and Birdie followed his gaze, seeing Santa walking away from the barn with a bad limp. "Are you two seeing this?"

"A lot of people walk with limps, right?" Sam asked, starting to wonder if they'd found the Anti-Santa after all. Santa walked past the trio, continuing to limp as he headed in a different direction.

"Tell me you didn't smell that," Dean said, glancing at Sam and then Birdie. "That was candy, guys."

"I don't smell anything," Birdie said.

"I wonder why," Dean muttered.

Birdie mocked him under her breath, giving him the middle finger which Sam quickly pushed down when a mother and her daughter walked by——both of them seeing the woman's finger.

"That was Ripple, I think. Had to be," Sam said, peering around Dean to look at Santa's retreating figure again.

"Maybe," Dean said with a shrug, letting out a sigh. He looked at Santa and then back to Sam and Birdie. "We willing to take that chance?"

Birdie was sound asleep in the back of the Impala hours later while they sat outside of "Santa's" rundown trailer home that was decorated with festive Christmas lights; or she had been until she suddenly woke up, realizing that she'd fallen asleep after she specifically promised she wouldn't. Dean offered to drop her off at the motel before they went to Santa's house that they followed him to after Santa's Village closed, but she swore she felt fine and could handle a stakeout on a fake Santa Claus.

Dean let out a tired yawn, slouching in the front seat so he was more comfortable. "What time is it?"

"Same as the last time you asked," Sam sighed with obvious annoyance. "Here," he said, handing a thermos to Dean. "Caffeinate."

Dean took the thermos from Sam and tried to pour some coffee into the lid, but the thermos was empty. "Wonderful," he groaned, sitting the thermos between him and Sam. He looked ahead, letting out a soft sigh as his thoughts began to wonder. Birdie tiredly wiped at her eyes, blinking upwards a few times to try and wake herself so it didn't seem like she'd fallen asleep, but Sam and Dean already knew she'd passed out almost as soon as they started the stake out. "Hey, Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Why are you the boy that hates Christmas?"

"Dean. . ." Birdie shook her head, momentarily closing her eyes at the warning tone in Sam's voice.

"I mean, I admit it, you know, we had a few bumpy holidays when we were kids."

"Bumpy?" Sam repeated, giving Dean an almost amused look.

"That was then," Dean said. "We'll do it right this year."

"Look, Dean. If you want to have Christmas, knock yourself out. Just don't involve me."

Dean looked at Sam with disbelief. "Oh, yeah, that'd be great——me and myself making cranberry molds."

"So does being sick automatically disqualify me from being a part of Christmas with you or some shit?" Birdie asked with a huff, sitting up so she was in the middle seat, head poking over the seat with her eyes pinned to Dean.

"See? Bird's fine with celebrating. Why aren't you?" Dean said, glancing aside at Sam.

"Just celebrate with Birdie then," Sam said, giving Dean a sharp glare as if telling him to drop it already.

"Fine," Dean grumbled.

Birdie shook her head, stealing a look at Sam. "You guys know I've already got presents for both of you, right?"

"Birdie, you didn't h——"

"You guys say that every year," Birdie said with a faint laugh. "But I want to."

Dean and Sam gave her faint smiles in return, turning their attention back to the home. Birdie relaxed in the back seat again, resting her chin on the leather seat in front of her with her eyes focused on the house.

Sam and Dean returned to watching the seemingly quiet house, a mix of tense yet comfortable silence settling around the hunters. Santa, still wearing his red hat, was now in a stained white tank top, looking outside the window before he closed the curtains.

Birdie narrowed her eyes, furrowing her brows.

"What's up with Saint Nicotine?" Dean asked, a similar expression on his face.

Suddenly they heard the faint sound of a woman scream from inside the house.

The trio hurried out of the car, running towards the home with their guns drawn. Dean hurried up to the door, peeking in through the tiny window.

Sam breathed out a quiet chuckle, capturing Dean and Birdie's attention as he stood at the bottom step with Birdie to the side of him. "Huh."

"What?" Dean and Birdie asked at the same time.

"Nothing," Sam quietly answered. "It's just that, uh. . .well, you know, Mr. Gung Ho Christmas might have to blow away Santa."

Dean shook his head, Birdie rolling her eyes as she sent Sam a glare.

Dean faced the home again, opening the door. They rushed inside, spotting Santa sitting on the couch, holding a giant bong and a bottle of whiskey as he casually watched something on his TV. Santa hastily stood up at the sound of the door opening, the trio quickly hiding their guns behind their backs.

"What the hell are you doin' here?" Santa slurred, eyes wide as he stared at the trio.

The three looked around in confusion, realizing the scream had come from the TV.

"Mistle my toe. Roast my chestnut. Egg my nog. . ." the woman on the TV said, causing Birdie to make a distasteful expression.

Dean looked at Sam and Birdie, hoping they could come up with a plausible explanation for breaking into his home.

Birdie stammered, eyes widened with panic. "Ah, we, uh——"

Dean suddenly started to sing, voice a little off key. "S-silent night. . .Holy. . ." he looked aside, silently telling the other two to sing along with him as he cleared his throat when they stared at him in shock.

". . .night," the three began to sing together, faking smiles towards the drunken Santa. Santa chuckled and sat down in a chair that was facing the trio, quite enjoying their singing. "All is well. . ."

". . .all is dry," Santa sang, a bright smile on his lips as he swayed to the lyrics.

Sam made a face as Santa got the words wrong, but it was the thought that counted. "Bright. . ."

They continued to sing a few more notes, Sam placing a hand on Dean's shoulder while he gently started to nudge Birdie towards the open door, their singing fading away as they left.

⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅

The entire room smelled of delicious bacon.

Birdie stood in front of the stove, humming the faint tune of a Christmas song as some bacon sizzled in a pan. Some toast was already made and sat on a plate in the corner, some eggs frying in another pan. She was feeling a little better, having taken some medicine as soon as she woke up. And, as she'd stayed behind when Sam and Dean went to interview a family as yet another man was taken from his home, she decided to make them breakfast for lunch.

Sam and Dean returned to the motel when she was nearly finished cooking, both of them grinning as they took in the delicious smell; Sam especially when Birdie whispered that it was actually veggie bacon, but she didn't want Dean to know.

Dean already had a plate for himself, food nearly scarfed down as he rummaged through some papers on the coffee table while seated on the couch. Birdie smiled approvingly when she glanced over and saw he'd eaten all the bacon on his plate. He didn't even notice it was fake bacon.

"Yeah, all right. Well, keep looking, would ya? Thanks, Bobby." Sam hung up his phone, walking over to the table where his computer was set up along with a plate of food for himself. Dean looked over at him, Birdie peering over at him as she slipped an egg onto her plate. "Well, we're not dealing with the anti-Claus."

"What'd Bobby say?" Dean asked, turning his head towards Sam, taking a bite of a piece of toast.

"Uh, that we're morons," Sam answered, pursing his lips.

Birdie blinked, looking from one brother to the other, clearly offended.

Why'd she get roped into being called a moron with them?

"He also said that it was probably meadowsweet in those wreaths," Sam said, scrolling on his laptop.

"Wow! Amazing," Dean said. "What the fuck is meadowsweet?"

"It's pretty rare, and it's probably the most powerful plant in pagan lore."

Birdie made a face as she picked up her plate, sitting at the table across from Sam. "Pagan?"

"Yeah. See, 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."

"Why would somebody be using that for Christmas wreaths?" Dean asked as he stood up to get some more coffee.

"It's not as crazy as it sounds, Dean. I mean, pretty much every Christmas tradition is pagan."

"Christmas is Jesus's birthday," Dean said, facing Sam with a coffee mug in hand. He handed one to Birdie, earning a sweet smile from her as she graciously accepted it.

"No, Jesus' birthday was probably in the fall," Sam corrected. "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?" Dean asked in disbelief.

"How do you think he got into Stanford?" Birdie asked with a faint smile.

Dean shook his head and took a few steps to the side, sipping on the coffee. "What are you gonna tell me next? Easter bunny's Jewish?" Sam just shook his head, looking back at his laptop. "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. . ."

Sam, now on the couch, picked up a book as he looked between Dean and Birdie. "Yeah, it's pretty much like putting a neon sign on your front door saying "Come kill us"."

"Great."

Sam, whose eyes were raking over one of the pages in the book, "Huh. . .when you sacrifice to Hold Nickar, guess what he gives you in return."

"Lap dances, hopefully." Birdie snorted out a laugh, picking up her plate as she moved to sit at the table with her eyes pinned to Dean.

"Mild weather."

Dean, who'd been looking at some of the images of the pagan still pulled up on Sam's computer, stole a glance out of the window. "Kinda like no snow in the middle of December in the middle of Michigan."

"For instance."

Dean sat down in Sam's empty seat, letting out a sigh. "Do we know how to kill it yet?"

"No, Bobby's working on that right now," Sam answered. "We got to figure out where they're selling those wreaths."

"You think they're selling them on purpose?" Dean asked, momentarily gesturing to the image on the laptop. "Feeding the victims to this thing?"

Sam let out a sigh. "Let's find out."

Dean nodded in agreement, his eyes following Birdie as she stood up to head to the bathroom. He let out a sigh, picking up a piece of bacon from Sam's plate. "This bacon taste funny to you?" he wondered, brows furrowed together as he munched on it. Sam's lips parted, looking from the bathroom door and then to Dean. Dean made a face, looking at the plate and then Sam——there was only one kind of bacon Sam ate, and according to Dean, that wasn't even considered bacon. "Wait a second. . ." his eyes shifted to the plate and then to Sam, seeing the way Sam quickly averted his gaze to the book in front of him. "Motherf——Birdie!"

⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅

Birdie didn't finish in time.

As soon as she heard Sam and Dean's voices outside the motel door, she hastily picked up the decorations and wrapping paper she'd bought from a store down the street just after they'd left to check out the craft store where the wreaths might've come from, shoving them into the closet. She made a face as she looked down at the half-wrapped present still tucked under arm, deciding she could at least finish wrapping it. Then she hurried into the bathroom, quickly closing the door just as Dean stepped inside.

Sam followed him in, heading towards one of the beds with exhaustion; he was ready for bed.

"Bird?" Sam called, noticing the woman wasn't anywhere to be seen.

"I'm in here," she called out, speaking over the sound of the wrapping paper crinkling.

"You gonna be long?" Dean asked, snickering.

Birdie scoffed, cutting off a piece of tape. "Fuck you," she huffed, rolling her eyes. "Beauty takes time——not that you'd know anything about that."

"You'll need all the time you can get," Dean replied, chuckling when Birdie opened the door and stuck her finger out at him. The door closed seconds later and he started to shrug off his jacket, placing it on his and Birdie's bed. "How much do you think a meadowsweet wreath would cost?"

"A couple hundred dollars, at least," Sam answered, shrugging his jacket off as well. Birdie shook her head as she listened, sitting on the bathroom counter as she continued to wrap the present.

"This lady's giving them away for free? What do you think about that?"

"Well, sounds pretty suspicious," Sam said, tossing his jacket on the bed he'd claimed.

Sam and Dean sat on the beds simultaneously, Sam letting out a tired sigh.

"Remember that wreath Dad brought home that one year?" Dean asked, a faint smile displayed on his lips.

"You mean the one he stole from, like, a liquor store?"

"Yeah, it was a bunch of empty beer cans. That thing was great," Dean said, his smile widening at the memory. Sam simply stared at Dean, having no idea where all of the Christmas spirit was coming from. "I bet if I looked around hard enough, I could probably find one just like it."

"Alright. . .dude, what. . .what's going on with you?" Sam softly asked.

"What?"

Birdie twisted her lips, quietly bending some more of the wrapping paper while trying not to let the brothers know what she was up to.

"I mean, since when are you Bing Crosby all of a sudden? Why do you wanna do Christmas so bad?"

"Why are you so against it? I mean, were your childhood memories that traumatic?" Dean countered.

Birdie shifted on the sink, taping up the last part of the wrapping paper with her brows furrowed together.

"No, that has nothing to do with it."

"Then what?"

"I-I mean, I-I just——I don't get it," Birdie heard Sam say, causing her to pause as she listened in. "You haven't talked about Christmas in years. Once Bird gives us our presents, that's usually it for you, anyways. Why the change?"

"Well, yeah," Dean softly said, briefly glancing to the ground before he looked over at Sam again. "This is my last year."

Sam's face fell, letting out a small sigh as he looked ahead. Birdie lifted her head, a prominent frown appearing on her lips. "I know. That's why I can't."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I can't just sit around, drinking eggnog, pretending everything's okay. . .when I know next Christmas you'll be dead." Dean faintly nodded at Sam's words; he understood. He'd be the same if it were the other way around. Birdie's eyes fell to the ground, heart sinking as she turned her gaze to the present that rested in her lap; all she had left to do was write Dean's name on it. "I just can't."

Both of them fell silent, Dean not entirely sure how to respond.

Sam let out a heavy sigh, leaning back on the bed.

"Hey, Bird?" Sam called after a few moments.

Birdie slowly planted her feet on the ground, holding the present behind her back as she hesitantly opened the door. She poked her head out of the door, peering into the room to see Dean was now shirtless and had changed his pants into more comfy ones. "Uh, yeah?" she asked, trying to act as if she hadn't overheard their entire conversation.

"You can come out now," he said, giving her a look like he knew what she'd been up to inside the bathroom.

"I-I wasn't. . ." she huffed as her voice dragged off, sheepishly smiling as she stepped out of the bathroom. Sam and Dean raised their brows at her as she faced them, purposely keeping her frontside facing them as she moved towards the closet off to the side of Sam's bed with her hands behind her back like she was hiding something from them. "Just don't, okay?"

"But why——"

Birdie quickly shushed Dean, narrowing her eyes as she neared the closet, Sam and Dean's eyes suspiciously following her. "Don't question it," she said, opening the closet. She skillfully bent down, dropping the present into the closet without Sam or Dean being able to tell what it was. She closed it just as quickly as she opened it, flashing Sam and Dean a bright smile. "So, what're we doing next?"

"Sleeping," Dean groggily answered, scooting back up on the bed. He gave her a cheeky grin, patting the spot beside him.

Birdie smiled and headed over to the bed, plopping down beside him. "You're seriously gonna sleep next to him after last night?" Sam asked with a surprised smile, sitting up on his elbows to see her over his brother.

Birdie breathed out a giggle, leaning against the headboard while Dean gaped as she sniffled faintly. "That was not me," Dean said, jerking his finger in Birdie's direction. "That was all Sleeping Beauty here."

"You?" Sam asked Birdie, brows raised with surprise.

"I'm sick——of course I'm gonna snore!" Birdie meekly defended, holding her hands out with her eyes slightly widened. "What do you expect? And hey," she said, flicking Dean's arm and making him huff as her nail flicked his skin, "if it bothers you so much, why'd you ask me to share the bed with you in the first place?"

Dean innocently shrugged. "I-I thought you'd prefer it over the couch, and I know how gassy Sam can be——"

"I am not g——" Sam's face fell, seeing both Dean and Birdie gave him a look that perfectly said they didn't believe him. He shook his head, scooting up the bed and casually leaning against the headboard. "Fuck you guys."

Birdie and Dean laughed, Birdie shifting to put her legs under the blanket since she was still in her pajamas. "But we still love you, Sammy," she said, giggling as she caught his gaze. "And if you want me over there with you instead, all you gotta do is ask."

Sam chuckled, playfully rolling his eyes. He stood up from the bed, a change of comfier clothes in hand.

Birdie giggled again, scooting down further into the bed and laying her head on a pillow. "You aren't gonna snore tonight, though, are you?" Dean asked as he got comfortable in the bed, pulling the blanket over him and turning his head to face Birdie. "Sam and I still got a job to do."

Birdie pursed her lips and lifted her hand, flicking him on the forehead.

"Stop doin' that," Dean huffed, swatting her hand away.

"I can't see the future," Birdie replied, curling into the blanket as she faced him as well. "But. . .if I do snore again, I am giving you, and Sam, one pass, and one pass only, to flick me on the forehead."

"What if you just go back to snoring?" Sam wondered, now in a simple shirt and pajama pants as he exited the bathroom.

Birdie looked from him and then to Dean, shrugging. "Sucks to be you guys then."

After looking up the name of the woman, Madge Carrigan, who'd given the craft store the homemade wreaths that each victim had, the trio went to check her out after finding her address. Birdie had gone along with the boys since she was feeling even better than the day before, and there was certainly something off with Madge and her husband, Edward.

Both Madge and Edward were very kind and cheerful from the minute Madge opened the front door, Edward even offering them some peanut brittle which Dean had almost taken some of until Sam swatted his hand away with a nervous smile being directed at Mr. and Mrs. Carrigan. With their festive clothes and dated hairstyles, Birdie could've sworn they'd come straight out of a 1950's holiday film. But, if she didn't already know things were never that perfect, she probably wouldn't have found anything strange with the older couple.

But something was certainly off with them.

They left the Carrigan house shortly after that with all three believing they'd found who they were looking for, waiting until nightfall before going to take out the couple. Thankfully, Bobby had called not long after they returned to the motel, informing them that a pagan god could be killed with stakes made of evergreen wood.

At the moment, Dean was sharpening a wooden stake to a perfect point while Sam used his laptop to do some more digging on Mr. and Mrs. Carrigan. Five other wooden stakes were on the bed and floor near Dean, Birdie starting to pick them up and stuff them in a duffle bag for when they headed out.

Sam clapped his hands together after a few minutes, capturing Dean and Birdie's attention as they paused to look in his direction. "I knew it! Something was way off with those two."

"Like what?" Birdie wondered, standing up and brushing her hands off on her jeans.

"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?" Dean assumed, brows furrowed together.

"Serious pagan stuff."

"So what, Ozzie and Harriet are keeping a pagan god hidden underneath their plastic-covered couch?"

"I don't know. All I know is we gotta check them out," Sam said. "So, what about Bobby? He's sure evergreen stakes will kill this thing, right?"

Dean closely examined the stake in his hand. "Yeah, he's sure."

Once they were ready, they climbed into the Impala, arriving at the heavily decorated house in the middle of a suburban neighborhood twenty minutes later. The trio quickly walked toward the house, glancing around to make sure no one could see them. Dean carried the bag with the stakes in it, the strap slung over his right shoulder.

Dean glanced around the seemingly silent neighborhood before bending down to begin picking the lock. Sam carefully reached into the bag, taking a stake for him and Birdie so they were both prepared.

They entered the home after a minute or so, the door slightly creaking as Birdie slowly shut it behind them. Faint Christmas music was playing from the living room to the left of them, a beautifully decorated Christmas tree standing tall in front of the window.

Sam handed Dean one of the stakes as they lingered near the door, looking around to make sure Mr. and Mrs. Carrigan weren't around at the moment.

They took a few steps into the living room once they were ready, Dean placing his hand on the plastic covered couch. "See? Plastic." Sam made a face and touched it, Dean shaking his head disapprovingly while Birdie simply grimaced.

Sam headed into the hall, Dean and Birdie cautiously moving further into the living room and looking at all the Christmas decor that most likely covered the entire house. Dozens of tiny festive statues were placed on the mantle above the crackling fireplace, all staring straight at Birdie as she stepped closer. She shuddered and carried on, spotting a gingerbread house on the dining table that looked a little too perfectly done; there was no way they made that themselves.

Sam silently crept down the dimly lit hall, finding it was also decorated with shiny ornaments and snow globes that were placed on a small table that was pressed against the wall. Birdie moved ahead of Dean, entering the small kitchen through a door that separated the kitchen from the dining room. Her eyes slightly widened, seeing multiple plates of warm cookies and tiny cakes which looked rather appetizing as they sat on the table in the middle of the room.

Sam shook his head when he saw Birdie eyeing one of the cookies, shining his flashlight on her as if to snap her out of her daze. She huffed and held her hands up as if to say she wasn't going to eat any of them, though, it was rather tempting. Then he moved his flashlight on the lock of a door near the fridge.

"Hey, Dean," Sam called out as Birdie wandered over to him.

After picking the lock, they walked downstairs to the blackened basement. Dean pointed his flashlight as they stepped down the last step, spotting human bones covered with blood in a large bowl on a table in front of them. All three of them glanced around the distasteful basement, realizing it looked more like a butchery rather than a place for storage with bloody bones and blood splatters all over the place. There were bloody boots set off in a far corner, most likely belonging to the creature who was the one abducting men from their homes and dragging them through the chimneys. A grimy workbench was further ahead with a bloody saw attached to the end, making Sam gag as he closely inspected it.

Birdie scrunched up her nose when she saw a bloody bag dangling off to the side, dried blood directly below it like the blood had dripped down from the outside of the bag. She shook her head and continued to slowly walk through the basement, trying not to touch or step on anything. Sam spotted another blood covered bag not too far away from the first one, walking closer when he saw it looked like there was still something stuffed inside. He cautiously reached out to touch with his flashlight, but someone suddenly moved from inside.

Sam jumped, but he was hastily spun around by Madge Carrigan before he could try to help whoever was inside the bag. She easily lifted him off the ground by gripping his throat with one hand, capturing Dean and Birdie's attention when he let out a grunt.

"Sam!"

Madge roughly pushed Sam against a nearby wall and held him by the throat, his feet dangling above the ground. Dean raced over to him and tried to stake Madge, but Edward Carrigran roughly grabbed his arm and knocked his head against a wall. Dean fell to the ground after he collided with the wall, falling unconscious.

"Don't even try it, darlin'," Edward told Birdie when he saw her glaring at him with a stake still tightly clutched in her hand. She ignored him and hurried over with her teeth gritted together. He let out a sigh and smacked the stake from her hand, swiftly grabbing her by the throat with the other. She grunted at the force, her hands latching onto his as he lifted her off the ground just as Madge had with Sam. She huffed, suddenly sneezing. "Gesundheit."

"Fuck you," Birdie seethed, faintly gasping as Mr. Carrigan tightened his grip.

Madge looked over at her husband, seeing him smile and nod. Sam panted under Madge's tight grip on his throat, his eyes flickering over to meet Birdie's.

"Gosh, I wish you three hadn't come down here," Madge said, a sincere frown on her face.

Sam moved his flashlight to shine on their faces, appearing monster-like in the beam of light until the flashlight lowered and their faces turned back to normal. Madge slammed Sam's head hard against the wall and let him drop to the ground, unconscious.

Edward turned his head towards Birdie, seeing her glaring at him while he flashed her an overly cheerful grin that sent chills down her spine. "Lights out, buttercup."

A number of bowls and knives were set out on the kitchen table, Christmas music still faintly playing from a nearby room. Scented candles were lit and spread throughout the kitchen——most likely to cover up the foul odors from the basement. Sam and Dean were tied up in wooden chairs, back to back. Birdie was tied to a chair as well, hers pressed against the wall and directly facing Sam.

"Dean?" Sam groggily asked, hearing Dean start to stir behind him. Birdie was already awake, having been attempting to wiggle out of the rope restraints when she'd heard Sam starting to awaken a couple minutes ago. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I think so," he breathed out. "Bird?"

"I've been better," she said, coughing a few seconds later.

Sam let out a sigh. "So, I guess we're dealing with Mr. and Mrs. God." Dean and Birdie faintly nodded in agreement. "Nice to know."

"Yeah."

The Carrigan's made their way into the kitchen after hearing their voices, dressed in colorful Christmas-themed sweaters, looking like a picture perfect pair of doting grandparents who were ready to celebrate the holiday with their kids and grandkids.

"Ooh, and here we thought you three lazybones were gonna sleep straight through all the fun stuff," Madge said, giggling as she walked past and in between Sam and Birdie and then towards the other side of the table.

"Miss all this? Nah, we're partiers," Dean snipped out.

"Isn't he a kick in the pants, honey?" Edward asked with a smile, holding a pipe he'd been smoking when he walked into the kitchen. "You're hunters is what you are."

Birdie scoffed, rolling her eyes. "What gave you that impression?"

"And you're pagan gods," Dean sharply said. "So, why don't we just call it even and go our separate ways?"

"What, so you can bring more hunters and kill us?" Edward asked with a bitter laugh, standing beside his wife as she tied an apron around her waist. "I don't think so."

"Maybe you should have thought about that before you went snacking on humans, now, huh?" Sam asked.

"Oh now, don't get all wet," Edward dismissively said.

Birdie shook her head, giving Edward a hateful glare.

Madge seemed offended by Sam's words and Birdie's sharp stare, briefly looking aside at her husband. "Oh, why, we used to take over a hundred tributes a year and that's a fact," she cheerfully explained, picking up some napkins and putting one in Dean's lap first. "Now what do we take? What, two? Three?" She asked, putting one in Sam's lap and then Birdie's.

"Hardy Boys and Iola here make six," Edward answered.

"That's twice as many as normal," Birdie pointed out.

"But that's still not so bad, is it?" Madge softly said, looking down at Birdie who simply rolled her eyes.

"Well, you say it like that——I guess you guys are the Cunninghams," Dean sarcastically remarked.

"You, mister, better show us a little respect," Edward warned Dean, giving him a look.

"Or what?" Sam bitterly taunted, giving Edward the same glare Dean was shooting towards the gray-haired man. "You'll eat us?"

"Not so fast," Edward said, looking towards Madge who seemed to be getting rather excited. "There's rituals to be followed first."

"Oh, we're just sticklers for ritual," Madge gushed, bending down slightly to look at Sam, giving him a creepy smile when he looked at her as she stood up straight again.

"And you know what kicks off the whole shebang?" Edward asked.

"Let me guess——meadowsweet," Dean answered. Madge gushed again, looking towards her husband as if remembering something as she rounded the other side of the table. "Oh shit, you're all out of wreaths. I guess we'll just have to cancel the sacrifice, huh?"

"Oh, don't be such a gloomy Gus, and watch your mouth, mister," Madge said, pulling out three smaller wreaths that'd fit around their necks. She put one on Dean, Sam, and then Birdie, giving the woman a toothy grin. "There. Ohh. . .don't they just look darling?"

"Good enough to eat," Mr. Carrigan answered, smacking his lips together. The trio glanced over at him, eyes narrowed. "Alrighty-roo," he said, setting his pipe down to pick up a shiny knife and a bowl. "Step number two."

Mr. Carrigan walked over to Sam first, carrying the knife and bowl. He looked at Sam as he leaned down, placing the bowl under Sam's arm and prepared to cut him with the knife.

"Sammy?!" Dean shouted. "Sammy?!"

"Hey! Leave him alone!" Birdie shouted, wiggling against the ropes.

Sam shook his head as Mr. Carrigan placed the knife against his skin. "D-dont!" he shouted, screaming as the older man sliced a gash in his arm, collecting the dripping blood in the bowl.

"Leave him alone, you son of a bitch!" Dean shouted.

"Hear how they talk to us? To gods?" Edward asked his wife, handing her the knife and the bowl with a forced laugh. "Listen, pal, back in the day, we were worshiped by millions."

"Times have changed!"

"Tell me about it," Edward huffed, standing on the other side of the table while Dean and Birdie's eyes burned into him for what he did to Sam. "All of a sudden, this Jesus character is the hot new thing in town. All of a sudden, our altars are being burned down and we're being hunted down like common monsters."

"Good," Birdie snapped, anger raging through her body.

"You better watch your mouth, too, young lady," Edward told her, pointing his finger at her.

She feigned fear, lips twisted into a sneer. "You've already got me tied up with nowhere to go and are planning on eating me. What else could you possibly do?"

Edward breathed out a laugh, his smile making Birdie's anger bubble even more. "Don't you fret now. You'll see soon enough," he smugly said.

"But did we ever say a peep about anything? Oh, no, no, no, we did not," Madge said, swishing Sam's blood around in the bowl as Edward added some more ingredients. "Two millennium." Birdie's eyes involuntarily widened, watching Mr. Carrigan pick up a pair of pliers, examining it as Madge continued to speak. "We kept a low profile——we got jobs, a mortgage. Wh-What was that word, dear?"

Mr. Carrigan paused as he held a piece of popcorn in one of his hands. "We assimilated," he said, popping the piece into his mouth.

"Yeah, we assimilated. Why, we play bridge on Tuesday and Fridays," Madge said, flashing them a smile as she held up the same knife that Edward had used to cut Sam's arm. "We're just like everybody else."

"You're not blendin' in as smooth as you think, lady," Dean said.

"This might pinch a bit, dear," Madge warned Dean, quickly bending down to slice his arm just like her husband had done to Sam.

"Don't touch him!" Birdie shouted, brows furrowed together as she saw Madge move the knife closer to Dean's arm.

Dean screamed as the knife sliced through his skin seconds later, jaw clenching. "You fucking bitch!"

"Oh, my goodness me! Somebody owes a dollar to the swear jar," Madge gasped. "Oh, do you know what I say when I feel like swearing?" Dean glared at the woman, taking in quick breaths to breath through the pain. "Fudge."

"I'll try and remember that!" Dean said through a pant.

Mr. Carrigan picked up the pliers he'd been looking at moments ago, making his way towards Birdie. "You three have no idea how lucky you are," he said. "There was a time when kids came from miles around just to be sitting where you are."

Birdie's eyes visibly widened, seeing how he was now facing her like he had with Sam moments before he cut his arm. "I don't know what the fuck you think you're doing with those goddamn things but you better get them the fuck away from me."

"That's two dollars you owe to the swear jar, missy," Mr. Carrigan scolded her with a chuckle.

"Fuck you, motherfucker!" Birdie snapped, clenching her fists.

Madge, who was preparing to slice Dean's other arm, caught his glare. "You fudging touch me again and I'll fudging kill ya!"

"Very good!" Madge beamed, briefly looking past him towards Birdie. "See? It's not so hard."

Birdie simply huffed, returning her glare to Edward.

Then without warning, Madge sliced Dean's other arm, causing him to grunt and close his eyes, teeth gritted. At the same time, Edward was bending down, trying to pry Birdie's clenched fingers apart so he could get one straight.

"Don't fucking touch her!" Sam hastily shouted, trying to yank his arms out of the restraints, seeing the sheer fear on Birdie's face.

"No, no, no, no," she grunted, heart racing as Edward grabbed a firm hold of her index finger, managing to pull it out straight. "Don't! NOOO!"

He tightly gripped her slightly paint-chipped nail, pulling it. Birdie screamed, throwing her head back with her eyes tightly sealed shut.

"Stop it!" Sam shouted. l

Mr. Carrigan pulled the nail off, holding it up with triumph. "Oh, we got a winner!"

Madge and her husband returned to the kitchen table, putting Dean's blood and Birdie's nail with the rest of the ingredients they had so far. Birdie whimpered and leaned her head back, sucking in deep breaths in a feeble attempt to breath through the intense pain.

"What else, dear?" Madge asked Edward, stirring the ingredients together with a spoon.

"Well, let's see. Uh, fingernail, blood. Oh. . ." Edward lightly knocked his hand against his head, chuckling. "Sweet Peter on a popsicle stick, I forgot the tooth."

"Oh, dear!"

Dean was breathing hard as he looked away from Edward who'd picked up the pliers again, head slightly turned to partially see Sam and Birdie, "Merry Christmas, guys."

Sam and Birdie simply groaned in response.

Mr. Carrigan walked over to Dean, Madge looking over with an enthusiastic smile as her husband grabbed hold of Dean's chin. "Open wide. . .and say, "Aaah"."

Mr. Carrigan forcefully shoved the pliers into Dean's mouth, making the older Winchester groan. But, before Edward could pull out a tooth, the doorbell suddenly rang.

"Somebody gonna get that?" Dean asked with the pliers still in his mouth, looking up at Mr. and Mrs. Carrigan. The couple questionably glanced at each other, clearly not expecting any visitors at the moment. The doorbell rang again seconds later, giving Birdie the impression that the person already knew the couple was home. Sam breathed out a faint sound of relief, he and Birdie sharing a subtle look with each other. "You should get that."

Edward rolled his eyes, removing the pliers from Dean's mouth and setting them on the table. Madge huffed, brows furrowed together in frustration as she started to remove the apron while Edward ushered her towards the front door. "Come on."

Dean sighed in relief, running his tongue around his teeth as if to make sure they were still intact.

The Carrigans headed down the hall, the door swinging shut as they went to see who was at the door. Birdie heard an overly cheerful Christmas greeting come from someone who she assumed was a neighbor, rolling her eyes as she leaned forward towards the restraints.

"Bird?" Sam suspiciously asked, watching with surprise as she tugged on the rope with her teeth. "Well, that's one way to do it."

"You got a better idea?" she asked around the rope, scrunching her nose as she tugged on the rope. She let out a faint gasp when it came loose after a few more tugs, quickly pulling on the rope until her hand was able to wiggle free. She quickly removed it from the rope and started to untie herself, moving as fast as possible before Edward and Madge returned.

She hastily got to her feet once she was free, snatching up one of the knives to get Sam and Dean free, too.

"Wait, how'd you——"

Birdie quickly shushed Dean, wanting to make sure Madge and Edward wouldn't hear them, or that the neighbor wouldn't either as they weren't sure what the couple would do to the innocent woman if she overheard something she wasn't meant to.

She frantically cut the ropes that kept Sam to the chair, hurrying over to Dean once Sam was freed. She and Sam worked quickly to untie Dean, hearing Madge and Edward beginning to say their goodbyes to the neighbor. She tossed the knife back on the table once Dean was free, the trio hurrying out of the opposite door just as Mr. and Mrs. Carrigan started to head back to the kitchen.

"Now, where were we?" Madge asked with a hum as she opened the kitchen door once again, a gasp escaping when she and Edward saw the hunters had managed to escape.

The kitchen door that led straight to the dining area slammed shut, and seconds later the one behind them that led from the hall closed with a loud thud. Sam, Dean, and Birdie stood behind each of the doors, pressing their bodies against them as the couple pounded against the doors to try and get out.

Dean pulled out a drawer of a tall cabinet beside him, able to have it pulled out enough to keep the door from opening past it. Then he hurried around the corner to help Sam and Birdie, immediately coming to their aid. He placed a hand against the door that Sam and Birdie had their backs pressed against, feeling each hit one of the Carrigan's made on the door.

"What do we do now?" Dean shouted over the grunting of the Carrigan's. "The damn evergreen stakes are in the basement!"

"We need more evergreen, Dean!" Sam replied, turning his head where he spotted the festive Christmas tree shimmering off to the side. "I think I just found us some more."

Birdie looked at the china cabinet next to the door, seeing it could be used to block the door. "Here, help me with this," she said, standing in front of the cabinet.

The three hastily moved the cabinet in front of the door, hurrying over to the Christmas tree once they made sure the cabinet would hold enough for time being. Ignoring the searing pain in her finger that was now missing it's entire nail, Birdie and the brothers hastily knocked the Christmas tree over to make stakes out of the wood.

The cabinet in front of the door shook and shook as Mr. and Mrs. Carrigan continued banging against the door, urging the hunters to move faster to make stakes from the broken branches.

With each of them now having one, they started to make their way back to the kitchen, but halted when they heard how silent it'd become all of a sudden.

Suddenly Mr. Carrigan lunged at Dean with a shout, tackling him to the ground as he was closest to the hall.

Madge hurried into the room moments later, tilting his head towards Sam and Birdie with her eyes darkened. "You little things. . ." she said, her face momentarily contorting like a monster before it returned to normal. "I loved that tree."

Sam raised his stake to stab her, but she hit Sam across the face. He went tumbling into a chair behind them, his body smacking against the wall while the chair toppled over. Out of the corner of her eye, Birdie saw Mr. Carrigan punch Dean in the face, but with Madge almost taunting the woman with her glare, she knew she needed to take care of Madge first.

Madge took a threatening step towards Birdie, but the younger woman swung the stake, hitting the woman in the face with the prickly branches. When Madge staggered backwards, Birdie plunged the stake into the woman's chest.

Mr. Carrigan turned his head at the squelching sound, horror on his features when seeing Birdie plunge the stake further into his wife. "MADGE!"

Birdie pushed the stake deeper with her jaw clenched and Madge groaned in pain, crumbling to the floor with her eyes fluttering closed. Dean took the opportunity of Edward being distracted and hit the older man with the branches of his stake that had fallen off to the side, knocking the man off of him.

Dean then stabbed Mr. Carrigan before he had time to counter-attack, making him scream and his eyes widened in pure agony. Dean removed the stake, stabbing the man in his chest once more. Mr. Carrigan's head fell down, lying dead next to his wife with his eyes still wide open.

Sam let out a heavy breath as he stood up behind Birdie, Dean sighing in relief as he looked up at the two of them from where he was kneeled on the floor beside Edward's body.

Dean carefully stood up, the three standing together as they stared down at the bodies.

"Merry Christmas," Sam said, briefly smiling at Dean and then Birdie.

Birdie breathed out a faint laugh, shaking her head. "Merry Christmas, boys."

⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅

"It'll only be for a day or so, okay?"

Birdie deeply frowned, looking up at her father as he peered back back at her as he sat in the driver's seat. "Why can't you stay with me?" Birdie wondered.

Serena sighed in the passenger seat, turning around to face her daughter. She gave her daughter a small smile, hoping it would somehow make up for how she treated Birdie just a little over an hour ago. "Because John needs both of our help," Serena said. "But, your father's right. It'll only be for a day or so."

"Why can't I stay with Bobby?"

"It's too far away," Serena shortly answered; she would've preferred taking Birdie to Bobby's, but they didn't have time to take a detour to Sioux Falls. "Besides, this way you'll have someone your age to talk to."

"You mean like Sam?" Birdie huffed.

Serena shook her head, twisting her lips. "Him and Dean," she said.

"It won't be so bad, Bird," Reese told her. "You did get them some presents, didn't you?"

"Only because Bobby said he'd pay for them," she murmured, looking towards the window.

Serena shook her head, puffing out her cheeks. "But you still picked them out. I'm sure they'll like them, too," she said. "Now c'mon, we gotta get going, Bird."

Birdie wanted to press more, try to convince her father to stay, but she still didn't feel well and was too tired to put up more of a fight than she already had. She could tell her mother was growing more impatient the longer she remained not on the road, just itching to fight off some monsters; at least with Serena gone on a hunt, she wouldn't have to worry about her mother ruining Christmas any further.

"Okay," Birdie reluctantly sighed, unbuckling herself from the backseat.

Serena smiled in approval, quickly climbing out of the car. Reese frowned as he got out, going around the trunk to get Birdie's bag out of the car for her. He didn't want to leave Birdie——especially on Christmas——but he didn't trust Serena to be alone with John; not because she thought something would happen between them, but because John wasn't always so concerned about the wellbeing of a fellow hunter even if they were meant to be working together.

Serena glanced over at the motel doors, looking for the one John had said he'd left Sam and Dean in for the last few days.

Birdie adjusted her beanie she wore, curling into her puffy jacket as she waited for her dad to grab her things. Reese grabbed her bag and closed the trunk, giving her a soft smile when seeing she was waiting for him. He walked over to her, putting a hand on her shoulder to guide her towards the door Serena was approaching. "Come on, honey," he said. "You're gonna have fun, okay?"

Birdie just nodded, not believing him.

Serena knocked on the door once Reese and Birdie were beside her, hoping it was the right room. "Sam? Dean?" Serena softly said, knocking again when neither of the Winchester boys answered. "It's me, Serena. . .Fowler. . .Birdie's mom?"

They heard the sound of the door unlocking, slowly opening a few seconds later. Birdie saw Dean peek out of the crack in the door, glancing from her parents and then to her. His eyes flickered back up to Serena, twisting his lips.

"Can we come in?"

Dean faintly nodded, opening the door for them to come in; John had called just a few minutes ago to say Serena and Reese would be stopping by, but wouldn't say why and had hung up before Dean could ask for more information.

Serena entered the small room, Reese guiding Birdie inside as well with her bag still slung over his shoulder. Sam sat up on the couch, brows furrowed together in confusion when seeing Birdie and her parents.

What's goin' on?" Sam asked.

Serena gave him a forced smile, tilting her head. "We're, uh, we're gonna go help your Dad——"

"Is he alright?" Dean asked, a frown appearing on his lips. "He only called to say you guys were comin' by, but that was all he said. . ."

"Yeah, yeah," Reese quickly answered, firmly nodding to reassure the uneasiness that appeared on Dean's face. "He's fine. We're just gonna be there as backup, Dean. Your Dad'll be just fine."

Dean faintly smiled at Reese's answer, sitting on the armrest of the couch.

Serena looked down at Birdie, giving her a look. "Say hi," she whispered.

Birdie looked at the brothers, timidly smiling. "Hi."

"Hey," Sam and Dean replied at the same time.

"Since we're gonna go meet your dad, Bird's gonna stay with you boys," Serena said. "I hope that's okay."

"It's okay, ma'am," Dean politely replied.

Serena grinned, glancing aside at Reese. "Alright, well, we're gonna head out," she said, backing towards the door, excitement bubbling inside. "We should be back by tomorrow."

Birdie let out a sigh, stealing a glance up at her father. He gave her an encouraging smile, bending down and placing a quick kiss on her head. "Love you, Bird."

"Love you, too."

"Bye guys," Serena said, lingering in the doorway. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," Sam and Dean told her, partially returning her smile.

"Bye, kiddos," Reese said, returning to his wife's side.

"Bye," the three kids said together.

Reese gave them one last smile, letting out a faint sigh as he closed the door and the three kids were left all alone.

Birdie let out a tired sigh, twisting her lips as she hesitantly looked at the brothers. Her eyes returned to Dean, seeing that he was wearing a necklace she'd never seen on him before. "Is that new?" she wondered.

Dean smiled, nodding his head. "Yeah. Sam gave it to me for Christmas."

"I like it," she said. She wasn't exactly on the best terms with the brothers, but seeing as she didn't feel good and wasn't sure how long she'd actually be there, she wanted to at least try to get along with the brothers.

Then she moved to the side, looking at her bag that her dad had sat on one of the beds. "I have something for you two," she told them, starting to shrug off her jacket as she stood near the bag, her hat now placed by her bag.

"Really?" Dean murmured, scrunching up his face in shock. "Why?"

Birdie let out a sigh as she unzipped her bag. "It was more. . .Bobby's idea, but. . ." her voice dragged off as she grabbed the newspaper wrapped presents from inside the bag, handing one to Dean and then one to Sam, "when we went to the store, I picked out some things. I'm not sure if you guys'll like 'em, though. . ."

"Thanks, Birdie," Sam softly said, starting to unwrap it as a faint smile appeared on his lips.

Dean twisted his lips, giving Birdie a timid smile. "Thanks."

She silently nodded, sitting on the edge of the bed as the brothers opened up their presents. She let out a faint cough, covering her mouth as her eyes remained focused on the brothers, silently wondering if they'd actually like the gifts.

"Woah," Sam smiled, pulling out two books——The Great Expectations by Charles Dickens and Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card. "I, uh, thank you."

Dean softly smiled at Sam's reaction, faintly chuckling as he opened his next. His eyes lit up as he tore through the newspaper wrapping, his smile widening as he saw a portable DVD player and the Clint Eastwood film The Good, the Bad and the Ugly.

"This is so cool," he breathed out, offering her a toothy grin. "Thanks, Birdie."

"You're welcome," she said.

"Dean," Sam suddenly said, waving his big brother over to him. Birdie gave him a weary look as the younger Winchester whispered into Dean's ear, seeing the older boy silently nod.

Dean swiftly moved past Sam, going towards the kitchen area. He grabbed something from the far counter, tucking it behind his back as he returned to Birdie. She cautiously narrowed her eyes, seeing him twist his lips as he stood in front of her. "Uh, here," Dean said, holding a pink box out to her. "Merry Christmas, Birdie."

She breathed out a laugh, taking the Barbie doll into her hands. He then handed her a sparkly baton he'd kept behind his back with his other hand, causing her to giggle. "These weren't meant for me, were they?" she asked.

"No. . ." Dean sheepishly admitted.

Birdie shook her head, continuing to softly laugh. "Thank you, though," she said, clearing her throat when she felt another cough trying to stir. "I do like them."

"Now you and Sam can play with them while I watch my new movie," Dean teased, making his way over to the couch.

"Shut up, Dean," Sam snapped, rolling his eyes.

Birdie giggled, tucking the presents under her arm as she followed him. "We need to watch a Christmas movie," she said, plopping down between him and Sam with the doll and baton in her lap.

"This is a Christmas movie," Dean said, holding up the Clint Eastwood film as he sat the portable DVD player on the coffee table.

"It is not," Sam and Birdie said at the same time, causing them to suddenly glance at each other in surprise.

"We can watch one after, okay?" Dean huffed, giving Birdie a look.

She huffed as well, but reluctantly nodded.

She sat the Barbie and the baton on the other side of the coffee table, smiling as Dean moved the DVD player towards the middle so they would all be able to watch it. Sam and Dean were right beside her, the movie finally starting to play as snow began to fall outside the frosty window once again.

Maybe that Christmas wasn't going to end on a bad note after all.

Dean looked incredibly surprised when he returned to the motel after Sam had sent him for a beer run. Sam and Birdie had decorated the room with a small Christmas tree and "Merry Christmas" sign above the cheap TV.

"Hey! You get the beer?" Sam wondered, holding his hands out, one cradling a cup of eggnog and a smile prominent on his face. Birdie lowered her hands from the tree, having just hung a car air freshener on one of the branches. It wasn't much, but it was perfect for the three of them.

Dean, looking around in amazement, walking closer to Sam and Birdie as a genuine grin began to appear on his features while he carried in a six pack. "What's all this?"

"What do you think it is? It's-it's Christmas!"

Dean looked between Sam and Birdie, eyes focusing on Sam. He'd been keen on entirely ignoring Christmas that year. "What made you change your mind?"

Sam let out a sigh, ignoring the question. "Here, uh. . .try the eggnog. Let me know if it needs some more kick," he said, picking up a bottle of whiskey that he'd used in the eggnog.

Dean briefly glanced aside towards Birdie, seeing her give him a wink as she took a sip from her cup; she wasn't exactly a fan of eggnog, but with the way Sam made it, it was more bearable.

Dean took a small sip, coughing a few moments later, making Sam and Birdie softly smile. "No, we're good," he replied, chuckling.

Sam looked rather pleased with Dean's answer. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Dean answered. When Sam looked away to set the whiskey back on the table, Dean made a face, causing Birdie to let out a faint giggle, but Sam didn't seem to notice.

"Good. Well, uh, have a seat," Sam said. "Let's do. . .Christmas stuff, or whatever."

Dean looked away from the small Christmas tree that his eyes had fallen on once again, facing Sam and Birdie with a gleeful shine in his pretty green eyes. He happily nodded in agreement.

"All right, first things first," Dean said, pulling over a chair from the table as Sam took a seat on the couch. Birdie scurried over to the closet, her smile remaining on her lips as she pulled out two presents each for the brothers. Dean took out two packages wrapped in brown paper from a plastic bag and held them out to Sam. "Merry Christmas, Sam." Birdie sat on the couch beside Sam, her grin tripling in size when Dean handed her two presents as well. "Merry, Christmas, Bird."

Sam smiled, looking up from the presents towards Dean. "Where'd you get these?"

"Someplace special," Dean answered, shrugging off his jacket. Sam and Birdie skeptically eyed him, wondering where he could've gotten the presents. "The gas mart down the street," he confessed, making them laugh. "Open them up."

"Well, great minds think alike, Dean," Sam said, reaching under the couch for two packages wrapped in newspaper, which he gave to Dean. Then he reached down again, pulling out two more to hand to Birdie.

Dean was visibly surprised, and so was Birdie. "Really?" he asked, taking the gifts.

Birdie grinned, looking down at the presents in her lap.

"There you go."

"Here, boys," Birdie said, handing Sam his presents first and then Dean.

Let's open 'em up!" Dean said, his smile widening as he started to unwrap one of the presents.

Sam opened his first gift, unveiling two porn magazines; undoubtedly from Dean. Birdie rolled her eyes with a chuckle. She should've figured as much. Sam loudly laughed, looking at the graphic magazines. "Skin mags!" Dean nodded, very pleased with Sam's reaction. "And. . ." Sam said, opening the other present, "Shaving cream!"

"You like?"

"Yeah," Sam said with a genuine smile adorning his lips, nodding his head. "Yeah."

He stole a look over at Birdie, starting to open one of the presents she'd gotten him. She anxiously bit her bottom lip as she smiled, hoping he'd like the gifts.

He breathed out a laugh, opening up the box to reveal a new pair of sneakers——almost identical to the pair he'd had to get rid of when he lost one in a storm. "I promised I'd get you a new pair, didn't I?"

"Yeah, yeah you did," Sam chuckled, dimples poking out as he opened the next one. He pulled back the tape on the box, his eyes softening when he saw what it was. "A mixtape," he said, turning his head to face Birdie; on the tape was "Tunes for Bigfoot" written in Birdie's unmistakable handwriting. "Thanks, Bird."

"See, Sammy?" Dean gleefully smirked, wiggling his brows towards Sam. "Cassettes are still in style."

"Yeah, yeah," Sam murmured, nodding in agreement.

Dean chuckled and unwrapped the gifts Sam had gotten him, going next as Sam and Birdie had their eyes pinned to him. "Look at this," he said, holding up the presents with his eyes shining bright like a star on top of a glittering Christmas tree. "Fuel for me and fuel for my baby. These are awesome. Thanks."

"Good," Sam said, eyes still on Dean as he started to open his gifts from Birdie.

He grinned, his eyes widening as he looked over to Birdie after opening the first present. "How'd you——"

"You're not as discreet as you might think, Dean," she said, giving him a look.

Sam curiously leaned over, breathing out a laugh when seeing a set of porn magazines that Dean hastily hid, giving him a stern look. "Hey, you got your own to look at now," he said, making Sam and Birdie laugh. "These ones are all mine."

"Come on," Birdie encouraged, motioning for him to open the next one.

Dean pulled out his last present from her, spotting a mixtape similar to Sam's. He took it out of the box, happily showing it off as it read "Tunes for Batman Wannabe". "I love 'em," he told her, offering Birdie a warm grin. "Thank you, Bird."

"Alright, open yours now," Sam said, eyes now focused on Birdie.

Birdie quietly giggled, opening up one of the presents; she could already tell it was from Sam. She tore open the paper, gasping as she saw a new pair of headphones like the ones she'd had but broke on their way to Michigan. "Sweet!" she excitedly beamed, setting it in her lap before tearing into the next one. She breathed out a laugh when seeing what it was, now holding a bag of flamin hot cheetos; her favorite snack of all time. "Thank you, Sammy."

She carefully sat the presents down beside her, moving on to open the ones from Dean. The first one was a keychain in the shape of a bird——a penguin to be exact——which was her favorite bird. She giggling, giving Dean an excited grin. She opened the last one, letting out a loud laugh when seeing he'd also gotten her flamin hot cheetos as well. The corners of eyes were crinkled, smiling never faltering as she faced Dean. "Thank you, Dean."

Sam and Dean nodded with their smiles lighting up their faces, Dean reaching forward and picking up his eggnog, holding it out. "Merry Christmas, guys."

"Yeah, yeah," Sam said, him and Birdie picking up their cups to cheers with Dean. "Here, Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, boys," Birdie softly said, her smile brightening up her face.

It fell silent after they all took sips from the spiked drink, each of them knowing that it could've been their last Christmas together——their last Christmas with Dean.

"Hey, Dean, y——" Sam started to say as faced Dean, but as he stared at Dean for a few moments, he seemed to hesitate as he glanced towards the table. He let out a sigh, looking at Dean and then Bidie. "Do you guys feel like watchin' the game?"

Dean smiled in relief. "Absolutely."

Sam nodded. "All right."

Birdie groaned, throwing one of her hands out at her sides. "Wha-but it's Christmas," she said as Sam stood up and turned on the TV. "We should watch, I don't know, watch a Christmas movie?"

"We can watch one after, okay?" Dean told her, letting out a faint laugh.

She sighed but nodded, leaning back on the couch as her eyes fell on the football game that was about halfway in already. She had no idea who either of the teams were or what state they represented, but she didn't care.

It was the first Christmas she'd actually enjoyed in years and she wasn't going to let a football game get in the way of that.

Sam glanced over at Dean, making him faintly smile when he caught his gaze. Dena took another sip of his eggnog, giving Sam a nod as if reassuring him.

Birdie shifted next to Sam, letting out a content sigh when she looked out of the window, seeing snow beginning to fall much like it had during her first Christmas with the brothers.

⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅

I honestly didn't think I'd write another chapter that was longer than chapter 5, but here we are lmaoo.

I hope y'all liked this! It was a lot of fun to write the flashbacks + make them be set during the same flashbacks Sam has during the episode! Y'all got to actually see how Serena was instead of a nightmare version as well as Reese 🥺. I'm hoping to include more throughout the book to show the development of Birdie's relationship with the boys and such, but we'll have to see hehe!

Anyways, please don't forget to leave your feedback in the comments and I hope y'all enjoyed!