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It starts out orange, bright, and warm. He can hear Sam’s deep laugh echoing in Bobby’s kitchen as the old man gathers the plates for dinner. And there he is. Sitting at the table, head tilted curiously at the Christmas turkey. Cas.
There’s a clear voice of a woman. Mom, Jo, Ellen, Dean’s never sure who. But he’s smiling along with her and they’re all laughing. Cas doesn’t understand why but it doesn’t matter. Everyone is happy. Sam puts an arm around Dean’s shoulder, pulling him into a warm hug.
“Merry Christmas.”
And he begins to wonder when the last time they’d hugged each other. They knock at each other playfully till they each find their own chair. Bobby is watching with something akin to pride as he joins them with a mutter of ‘idjits’.
Dean lets out a small huff of laughter and looks up, immediately seeing calculating blue eyes. They smile.
Sam nudges him with his shoulder. “You should cut the turkey.” So he stands taking in the room filled with their family and friends. He’s smiling so wide that it nearly hurts. They all look so happy, so proud. John is giving a slow nod from his recliner.
A recliner they had in the house that burned down. That’s when things begin to wrinkle and tear. John stands and leaves with Mary’s hand in his and Dean can’t stop them. They all slowly leave and it’s like he’s been frozen in time. Finally, the room is nearly empty. Bobby is watching him with an expression he doesn’t understand. “Sorry, kiddo.”
Then he’s looking into blue again and it feels like forever. He can feel the betrayal. The loss and pain. The unfairness of it all.
Dean thinks that waking up should be a relief but it only solidifies the truth. He buries his face deeper into the worn trench coat.
“Merry Christmas.” He whispers.