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The holidays never meant much to Dad but Sam still got that little glimmer in his eyes when the first Christmas lights started to show up around town. Even though they were just making a quick stop to buy some badly needed winter clothes, Dean notices the excited smile that spreads across Sammy’s face as they pull into the mall parking lot.
The entrance is dripping with Christmastime cheer. Shimmering green bunting and twinkling white icicle lights are draped between huge candy cane striped pillars on either side of the doors and a banner that says ‘Santa’s Workshop’ in festive red script is pinned up above.
“Ohmygosh, Dean,” Sam gasps. He shucks off his seatbelt and scoots across the back seat to press his hands against the window to get a better look, those big Technicolor eyes of his shining as he takes in the holiday splendor. “Will you take me to see Santa?”
Dad pulls up to the curb, the Impala’s tires crunching loudly in the ice. “Aren’t you getting a little too old for that, Sammy?” John barks, not even bothering to back at his youngest in the rearview.
Dean knows Dad doesn’t meant to be cruel but the way he so flippantly shoots Sam down cuts the boy deep. Sam’s little smile crumbles as John digs into his wallet for a stack of bills.
“I’ll be back at three. There’s two hundred dollars there, should be enough if you only get what’s on the list.”
Dean gives their father a curt nod but keeps his eyes on Sam as he takes the cash and stuffs it into his back pocket with the list of must-haves scrawled on a piece of paper from the motel notepad. Dad had been in a foul mood ever since his last hunt. Dean didn’t get all the details but he had needed nearly a dozen stitches and had spent the better part of the week since trying to drink himself into feeling better. To make matters worse, money was tight and he and Sam had both hit growth spurts at the exact same time.
“Make sure you try stuff on!” John shouts after Dean as they get out of the car. “I’m not interested in returning shit just because you were too lazy to make sure it fit.”
Dean doesn’t dignify it with a response, just slings his arm around Sam’s shoulders and tugs him close as they walk toward the Sears entrance.
~~~
“Come on, Sam. You gotta help me out here,” Dean pleads, frowning at Sam where he’s still sulking near a rack of clearance flannels. “Dad’s gonna be back to pick us up in two hours and you haven’t picked anything out yet. You know it’s my ass that’ll get chewed if we don’t get you some new clothes.” Sam doesn’t reply, he just keeps chewing at his chapped bottom lip and swaying absently to the shitty Christmas Muzak being piped in through the department store speakers.
“Whatever, man,” Dean grumbles, furrowing his brow at the petulant nine year old. He should know better than to keep pushing when Sam is in mid-pout. The kid had the face of a cherub but he could be as stubborn as an old barnyard mule. “Just let me finish getting my stuff and I’ll help you look. Can you at least pick out a few pairs of jeans to try on?”
Sam shrugs and shoves his hands into his pockets, turning to look at the jeans on the rack behind him. It’s just a ploy on Sam’s part to get Dean to stop nagging but Dean will take it. He sighs and shifts the growing pile of clothes draped over his arm, doing a quick tally. A couple of t-shirts, a pack of socks, some long underwear and he’d be set. If they stuck to the clearance section he might even be able to swing getting the black denim jacket he saw on one of the mannequins by the entrance. Dad hadn’t given them much to spend but Dean was no stranger to shopping frugally.
“I’ll be right back, Sam. Don’t wander off.”
Dean’s words echo in his head as he leaves Sam to find the underwear section. It bothers him, the way he sounds like Dad when he’s frustrated. He hears it, clear as day, so he knows Sam can too. Dean makes himself a little promise to himself to figure out a way to cheer Sam up before they leave. The poor kid deserved it after Dad had been such a dick.
When Dean makes it back over to the sale section where he left Sam, his brother is nowhere to be found. Dean takes a deep breath, making two loops around both the boy’s and men’s sections, and checking both sets of dressing rooms for good measure. No sign of Sam.
“Really, Sammy?” He mutters to himself, trying not to be pissed off and failing. Sam sure seem hell bent on spending the rest of the afternoon punishing Dean for Dad’s bullshit. There was time to find him, Dean just had to use his training, stay calm, and come up with a game plan.
He gets in line to buy his clothes. It needed to be done and it would keep his mind from spiraling into worry. He continues to scan the throngs of shoppers for Sam’s messy little mop of brown hair as he waits, kicking himself for leaving Sam alone while he was in such a foul mood. He pays the cashier, glancing down at her nametag before painting on his best smile.
“Hey, Crystal? I’m looking for my kid brother. He’s nine, about yea big,” Dean holds his hand out level with his shoulder to demonstrate Sam’s height, catching her eyes. “Chestnut hair, chubby cheeks, hazel eyes the size of dinner plates. He uh, he ran off…” His words trail off, the shame and fear he’s feeling dry out his mouth and make his palms sweat. “I’m gonna go look for him but if you happen to see a kid that fits that description would you mind telling him to wait right here for me? His name’s Sam.”
She pops her gum and nods, giving Dean a tired but empathetic grin. “Sure thing. Santa’s right out that way,” She says, pointing toward the mall entrance where the jacket Dean wanted hangs forgotten. “Maybe he went to look at the lights?”
The older woman in line behind Dean grumbles impatiently under her breath, shuffling restlessly with her purchases. Sam could’ve been snatched up by a serial killer right in front of these people and no one would have batted an eyelash. Goddamned civilians.
“Thanks, Crystal. I’ll check there first. Wish me luck. He always beats me at hide and seek.”
Santa’s Workshop is a bust. Dean walks around the white picket fence and fake snow lined perimeter of the little faux village scanning faces as he goes. No sign of Sam in the line to see Santa or anywhere else in the area. The line to sit on Santa’s lap wraps all the way out to the play area which is filled with screeching toddlers and dads saddled with shopping bags, looking all but dead behind the eyes. Not much to keep the attention of a nine year old once he’d had his fill of looking at the festive display.
Dean stops at the mall directory nearby, taking note of the stores on each floor that might interest Sam. There isn’t much. He swings by the toy store on the ground floor, searches the food court, the bathroom, and then heads upstairs to the pet store.
His chest feels tight as he walks to the back of the shop, peeking into the little stalls set up to allow people to play with the puppy or kitten they have their eye on. Lots of families picking out a new friend but no Sam. Dean swallows the lump that’s aching in his throat and tries to clear his mind. The happy little yips of the puppies in the big, open pen in the middle of the store catch his attention. A fuzzy faced, tan and white mop of a dog eagerly hops up, putting its feet on the edge of the pen, panting and wiggling in Dean’s direction. Dean puts down his shopping bag and sinks both hands into the dog’s fur, scratching gently at its ears.
“I bet Sammy petted you, didn’t he, Fido?” Dean says, ruffling the pup’s head with a sigh. It looked like he was going to have to rely on the rent-a-cops after all.
Unfortunately, the girl at the guest services counter is even more useless than Dean could’ve imagined. Apparently mall security isn’t in the business of helping find missing kids. Sure, they’d take credit if one wandered up, teary eyed, unable to find mom and dad, but that was about as far as they seemed willing to go.
“I’m sorry but, like I said, no one has reported finding your brother.”
Of course no one has found Sam, he’s not trying to be found.
“I get that, lady. I’m asking if I can get some help looking for him. I’ve been all over this mall and, trust me, it’s not like your security guards got anything better to do. Can’t you send out an APB for him or something? I already gave you a description.”
“No – just,” she blusters, folding her arms across her chest. “Where are your parents?” Her face is pinched and she looks every bit as exasperated as Dean is feeling. He sighs and shakes his head, rolling his eyes for good measure.
“Forget it. You better hope I find him…” He glares and grits his jaw. Trying to get help was just making the guilt and panic whirling inside him intensify. He looks down at his watch. It had been almost an hour. He couldn’t face Dad without finding Sam. Christ, what if someone – or something – did take Sam? He’d never forgive himself.
Dean wanders on autopilot back to the Sears where they had been clothes shopping. He switches his clothes-heavy shopping bag to the other hand and wipes his sweaty palm on his thigh, trying to focus, trying to think.
What did Dad always tell him? Stay calm. Breathe. Clear your mind. Focus. Be confident. Retrace your steps. You can do this. Dean looks up at the entrance to the store and stops for a moment, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, letting the bustle and noise of the shoppers around him fade away. Sam was fine. He was just upset and frustrated, probably needed some time alone to cool off. He wouldn’t run away, he wouldn’t. Dean opens his eyes and looks back up at the blue and white Sears sign with renewed determination.
Crystal isn’t at her register when he walks back into the junior’s department. Figures. He makes the loop around the store again, still no sign of Sam. He circles back to the clearance racks, letting his fingers skim over the tops of the hangers. He pauses in front of the jeans, standing exactly where he’d last seen Sam.
He hears Sam’s soft sniffle in the tiny pause between when ‘Jingle Bells’ ends and ‘I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus’ picks up.
“Sam?” Dean’s voice is practically a whisper. He’s too worried he’s wrong, maybe it’s just his mind playing tricks.
Sniff, sniff.
“Sam!” Dean falls to his knees, abandoning his bag, pushing back the clothes on the rack to see the space created underneath it. Sam’s there, under the rack of clearance flannels, his knees balled up against his chest. His eyes are wet with tears, wide and fixed on Dean. He reaches for him, helping him climb out from under the metal frame.
“Shit, Sammy. Were you under here the whole damn time? I looked everywhere.”
Dean sighs with relief and pulls Sam against him, not worried about the answer to his question. Sam flings his arms around Dean’s middle, squeezing so tight the he can barely breathe, pressing his tear-streaked cheek against Dean’s shirt.
“I thought…” Sam’s voice catches on a sob as his eyes flicker up to meet Dean’s. “I thought you left me.” His eyelashes are clumped together, wet with tears and his bright pink bottom lip is still trembling. Dean holds him close, rubbing gentle circles between Sam’s shoulder blades.
“I’d never leave you behind, kid. You’re the most important thing in the world to me, even more than Dad. You should know that by now.”
Sam sniffles and rubs at his nose with his sleeve, his breath still ragged from crying. He gives Dean a little nod.
“I’d never let anything bad happen to you. You’re my responsibility…” Dean pushes his face down against the top of Sam’s head and takes a deep breath, stroking over the back of Sam’s head. Sam was much more than just a responsibility, some chore that Dean was forced to put up with. He was the reason Dean got up in the morning. He was what kept Dean trying to be good, strong, confident, smart – it was all for Sam.
“Just –” It’s Dean’s turn to choke back a sob, squeezing Sam even tighter to compensate. “Just don’t scare me like that ever again, okay?”
They stand there amongst the sweaters and flannels until Sam’s little heart stops jack-rabbiting in his chest and Dean’s mostly sure he won’t start crying.
“I’m sorry, Dean,” Sam sniffles as he pulls back, the corner of his mouth twisted in an embarrassed frown. “I went to see…” Sam tips his head and looks over at the entrance into the mall. “I just watched the kids sitting on Santa’s lap for a while… I came right back but you were gone. I was worried you’d be mad so I just waited but you didn’t come back. I didn’t know what to do so I just sat under there…”
“It’s okay, Sam.” Dean puts his hands on Sam’s shoulders and gives them a squeeze. He can see Sam’s eyes filling with tears again, feel his lungs hang up on the breath he’s trying to take. He leans down and presses a soft kiss to the tip of Sammy’s runny nose. “It’s okay, I promise.”
Sam locks eyes with Dean and smiles just as wide as he had when they first pulled up to the mall. They didn’t have much but they had one another. That was what mattered, to them both.
“Come on, kiddo. I’ll take you to see Santa. Screw what Dad said.”
“Nah, it’s okay, Dean. He’s fake as hell. His beard’s barely staying on. I think he might be drunk,” Sam smirks.
“Gross, let’s go get Orange Julius instead,” Dean offers, putting his arm around Sam’s skinny shoulders. “There’s still enough time to get you some clothes after.”