𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢 | 𝐬𝐩𝐧

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐒𝐈𝐗

THREE days until Christmas. Carter's time was down to five days. She and the Winchesters were checking out an "anti-Claus" situation, where (according to the lore) Santa's brother goes psycho and kills people. They looked around at the toy reindeers and Santa statues. Carter dug her hands in her pockets. "This is the creepiest place we've ever been to." She shuddered. "Scared of Santa?" Dean joked. "No, why would I be scared of a grown man sneaking into chimneys at midnight to give gifts to little kids? It's normal." His friend replied.

"I'll keep ya safe, Twig," Dean told her. "Twig?" Sam questioned. "Her last name is Branch and she's--- You're so stupid," Dean explained. They continued walking until he broke the silence again. "We should have a Christmas this year. We'll get a tree, a little Boston market. It'll be just like when we were little, Sammy, but this time with a Branch." He told them. "Dean, those weren't exactly Hallmark memories for me, you know. No," Sam mumbled. "Alright, Grinch." His brother scoffed, walking away.

"Sam, we should have a Christmas," Carter said, her voice filled with despair. "No," Sam replied firmly.

Carter walked away from him, unable to express her emotions because then he'd know.

It was her last Christmas.

𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐌'𝐒 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄

"Wreaths? A dude just got snatched by Anti-Claus and you asked about a wreath?" She asked Sam as they exited another victim's home. "We've seen that wreath before at the Walshes'," Sam informed. "Oh."

𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐋

Carter was laying on the bed, her head on Dean's chest while his arm wrapped around her and he typed on his laptop. She waited for Sam to finished up his phone call in order for the group to move again. Dean rolled his neck and closed his laptop. "You alright?" He asked. "Yeah, I just wish you never made that deal. I could have done it, Dean, and you and Sam would still be fine." She whispered. "Yeah, all right. Well, keep looking, would you? Thanks, Bobby." Sam said, hanging up. Carter sat up. "Well... we're not dealing with the anti-Claus. He said that it was probably meadowsweet in those wreaths." He told them.

"Of course. We're fucking stupid. Meadowsweet is pretty rare and it's like the most powerful plant in pagan lore." Carter sighed. "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." Sam continued. "A pagan God?" Dean questioned. "Hold Nickar, God of the winter solstice."

𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐏

"We'll check out the wreath chick tomorrow. Hey, remember that wreath Dad brought home that one year? It was a bunch of empty beer cans. That thing was great. I bet if I looked around hard enough, I could probably find one just like it." Dean chuckled. "I can't just sit around, drinking eggnog, pretending everything's okay when I know next Christmas you'll be dead. I just can't." Sam confessed. "He won't be." Carter sighed. She sat down on the edge of Sam's bed. "What?" The brothers answered.

"I made a deal. They were gonna torture you, Dean, so I told the demon I'll take your spot. An eye for an eye. I could be tortured in any way they want as long as you weren't there. I don't know if this demon is reliable, but it's worth a shot."

"Damn it, Carter! Why would you do that?!" Sam shouted. "Are you crazy?!" Dean interrupted. "You could die, you could both die." Sam pointed out. "I know," Carter murmured. "Why would you do this?!"

"Because you need each other, Sam! If there is even the slightest chance I could save him for you, I'll do it. They were gonna hand Dean to hellhounds. I don't want him to endure that." She explained. "You doubted it could even happen and you still did it. Did you forget that I need you here?" Sam's voice broke and he scowled at her lack of a response. He walked out and slammed the door.

"How long?" Dean asked. "I don't know." Carter lied. He scoffed and walked into the bathroom to avoid her.

Boys,

I just told you what happened. You can remember what happened by yourselves. Sammy, I know this is a risk, but when are there never risks in this job? Our whole lives are risks. We hunt monsters. It's what we do. Dean, I'd do it all over again if it means there's even a SLIVER of a chance you can drive Baby until you're old. I love you, Dean, you're my best friend, my drinking buddy, and a sarcastic asshole. There's one of you, Dean, and many more of me.

I want a dramatic hunter's funeral. Tears, roses, drinking, stories---All of that good stuff. If I don't see tears, I'll fly up from Hell to beat your asses. Anyway, I know you're both pissed now, but hopefully, that changes when you read this.

Forever in my heart,

-Carter