[ It happens within the span of hours. Dean leaves for work, perhaps, or is out on an errand, perhaps. Either way, when he returns home, nothing seems amiss... at first. Until he steps inside.
It looks like someone bought a sack of christmas decorations and upended them all over the place, with little understanding of where things should go. There's even a small, scrappy looking christmas tree, lopsided and sad and not at all a glorious christmas tree sight to behold, yet lovingly drowned in baubles and tinsel, with a star precariously wobbling on its tip. There's a stack of board games, unearthed at some second hand store or another. A crate of various christmas flavoured beers, with a glittering bow on top. Two bottles of eggnog - no labels. Homemade, perhaps. The fireplace is crackling. There's a beat up looking record player, and a box of vinyls, both with a gift tag that reads 'Dean'. Next to it sits a stack of leather bound books with a gift tag reading 'Sam'. Judging by the overflowing trash can, an attempt at wrapping both was made and given up on.
Later, he will find sitting on top of his pillow single, black feather, smooth and silky, and too large to have come from Charis, even though it has the same very subtle iridescence. Touching it feels strange, a little. Like the slight tingling in the air when a storm is gathering in the skies. And a note, that just reads:
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on the 24th
It looks like someone bought a sack of christmas decorations and upended them all over the place, with little understanding of where things should go. There's even a small, scrappy looking christmas tree, lopsided and sad and not at all a glorious christmas tree sight to behold, yet lovingly drowned in baubles and tinsel, with a star precariously wobbling on its tip. There's a stack of board games, unearthed at some second hand store or another. A crate of various christmas flavoured beers, with a glittering bow on top. Two bottles of eggnog - no labels. Homemade, perhaps. The fireplace is crackling. There's a beat up looking record player, and a box of vinyls, both with a gift tag that reads 'Dean'. Next to it sits a stack of leather bound books with a gift tag reading 'Sam'. Judging by the overflowing trash can, an attempt at wrapping both was made and given up on.
Later, he will find sitting on top of his pillow single, black feather, smooth and silky, and too large to have come from Charis, even though it has the same very subtle iridescence. Touching it feels strange, a little. Like the slight tingling in the air when a storm is gathering in the skies. And a note, that just reads:
'You're still worth it all.' ]