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Advent Wreath

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It’s not that Sam and Dean didn’t like Christmas. The truth was quite the opposite; they loved the holiday season dearly. The lights on trees and houses, the smell of pine and peppermint, even hoping for snow to fall on Christmas Eve. The life of a hunter doesn’t afford the ability to enjoy those things.

Even when Dean and Sam first found the bunker, and Dean went through a nesting phase, they didn’t celebrate Christmas. There was always some kind of issue. The Mark. The British Men of Letters. Amara. Not in that order, necessarily, but they still hung over Dean and Sam and the rest of their family. Christmas was a luxury that was at best a bottle of oil for Baby from Sammy or the accidental Barbie Doll from when they were kids.

But Jack and Mom? They made this year different.

“Cas! Dean! Sam! Look what I found!” Jack ran down the stairs from the Crow’s Nest into the War Room, a green ring in his hands. Sam and Cas walked in from the library, and Dean entered from the direction of the kitchen. “Mary said I could get it.” Jack looked up at the top of the steps and smiled at Mary, who just smiled and shook her head.

“What do you have there, Jack?” Sam leaned against a pillar and smiled at Jack’s enthusiasm.

Jack looked at Mary, who gave him a reassuring nod, then laid the circle of shrubbery on the War Table. “It’s called an Advent Wreath. According to the lady at the farmer’s market, you use it to mark the days up to Christmas.”

Dean rested his arm up on Cas’ shoulder. “Oh, like those calendars that are filled with candy? Anything in that?”

“There’s no candy in there, Dean.” Mary smiled at her son as she came up next to Jack and ruffled his hair. “You use candles to mark the weeks or the days, depending on what kind of traditionalist you are.”

“Today’s the third, we’re already three days in.” Cas leaned forward slightly, as to not knock Dean off balance, but to still get a better look at the wreath. “Which kind is this one?”

“It’s a daily one.” Mary set a bag on the table. “Here are the candles, Jack.” Jack happily reached in and started pulling out small red and large white candles.

Sam looked at his brother and best friend before looking back at their son. “Guess we’re celebrating Christmas.”

“Does that mean I get nougat?” Jack asked excitedly as he placed the candles in the holder.

“You bet, kiddo,” Dean responded. “Not even Sammy here will deny you that on Christmas.” Dean reached into his pocket and grabbed his lighter, tossing it to Mary, who, in turn, handed it off to the young Nephilim. “Light it up, Jack.”

Jack’s smile lit up the room brighter than the candles on the wreath.