It's Thursday, So It Must Be a Supernatural Christmas!!!

To all my friends and inmates, I wish you all a Blessed and Merry Christmas! This is just a little something that fell out of my brain and into my computer as I listened to Christmas carols and kept my mom company as she created the most wonderful scents in her kitchen. I hope you enjoy.

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Still and silent, the inky darkness seemed to envelope the black car speeding down the back road as though it had a memory sense of the twists and curves. The overhanging trees cast their shadows over the pavement as tendrils of fog swirled at the edges. As the night deepened, her driver realized that he would eventually need to slow enough to give a better traction when the visibility became even less clear. There was no moon to shine down and light their path, hidden as it was beneath the thick cover of clouds.

It didn’t matter though. Her driver knew where he was going.

Glancing over to the passenger seat, the driver grinned as he realized his brother had finally given up on his attempt to stay awake, to keep him company as he drove the dark roads. Hunched up against the door and window, long legs stretched as far as possible without encroaching near the driver’s side, it was only the fact that the position was one assumed on a regular basis that would save the young man from any truly strained muscles and neck aches. Oblivious to his brother’s grin, the exhausted young man slept, secure in his safety and calm in the peace still so recently restored to their only true home.

Returning his eyes to the road, in difference to his sleeping passenger, the driver lowered the volume on the pounding music streaming through the car’s speakers enough to soften, but not erase the pulsing rhythm of the bass line that was in tune with his own pulse. Thoughts of the coming day mingled with memories from similar days … some spent with their father, occasionally with their father and a friend or two, and, more times than should have been in their short lives, with simply his little brother for company. He shied away from the memories of the days that were spent alone, either in his favorite girl traveling or holed up in a motel room trying to will the day away with sleep and convenience store snacks.

A slight shift and a muffled snort from the passenger side of the car brought the driver out of his musings briefly to check whether it was an awakening or a deepening of slumber. Satisfied that his brother was still in the sound throes of sleep, he recalled their conversation at the beginning of the drive …

“Stopping for a holiday is a waste of time. If we hustle, we can be there by tomorrow night and maybe be able to stop whatever is going on.”
“It’s not a waste of time. A holiday is a time of being exempt from duty, from work. The work will still be there when the holiday is over. Besides, we celebrated last year.”
“Two things … 1) we were also WORKING last year or do you not remember being sliced and diced by the wicked version of the Kringle family? and 2) … last year was different.”
“Different? Yes … okay … it was different. We thought it would be the last one together. We’ve been given another … I’d say that’s a reason to celebrate, a reason to take a holiday. Besides … seems to me that THIS particular holiday would be one we need to …”
“To what? To go to church at midnight? To commune with angels – who are not too happy with us at the moment. To sing carols – which we suck at, by the way – …”
“No. To remember where we were last year and to be grateful for the divine intervention that did come and gave us … gave YOU … another chance. Come on, man. You know you really want to.”

Then the creep had pulled out the big guns …

“We did it last year when you really wanted to. I really want this this year.”

Darn manipulative sneaky little ...

Though the fact was, he had wanted to and eventually, taking enough time so that his little brother wouldn’t think he’d caved too quickly, especially after that last little nudge, he had given into the idea of going to their friend’s house to spend Christmas with his brother and the man who has become like a father – never replacing the drill sergeant that had loved and raised him but stepping up to offer support and guidance when necessary after the genuine article had gone and sacrificed himself. Not that he was going to slip down into THAT particular memory lane either. He had stipulated this was only to be a side trip and that the next day they had to be back on the road and working. His brother had grinned and agreed, pulling out his cell phone and calling to give the news of his victory.

Shaking his head, the driver took a drink of his cold coffee, grimaced and tightened his hands on the wheel as the night deepened further and the fog gave way to the beginnings of frost and light snow blanketing the passing fields and trees. From here on, there would be a chance of ice patches and snow drifts as they drew nearer to their destination. Not that he minded. Driving gave him a peace, reminding him that all the best of holidays he could remember included two things … his black beauty and his little brother. Despite all that had gone on in the last few years, the three of them were still together, and that meant something … something good … and he could hold onto that, even if it was only for a day.

The pulse of the music stopped as the DJ came on and announced the time with much laughing and ringing of bells.

Going with the impulsive urge, he slapped the back of his hand smartly to his brother’s chest, laughing as the younger man awoke startled, head swiveling around in all directions before his eyes were even really open, he yelled out to his brother…

“MERRY CHRISTMAS, SAMMY! Where’s the eggnog, dude?”

Fan Fiction Saves the Life of a Service Contractor

I believe I have previously mentioned that I have a really good imagination. When I watch a good movie or television program, I am sucked in, my heart and mind and emotions experiencing the same happiness, sorrow, excitement and angst of the characters I am watching. The same thing happens when I read a book or a story that is well written. Actually even more so, because my imagination will take hold of the written words and display a visual and audio feast in my brain.

So it was with interest that I encountered Supernatural fan fiction. A friend of mine wrote a story based on the characters of our favorite show and asked me to read it. She sent me the link to her story on www.fanfiction.net and I read it. I enjoyed it. It helped that I already knew the characters and I could once again allow my imagination to take hold and run the story as a visual episode in my head. It was also delightful because I knew the person who had written the story.

Then my curiosity got the better of me ... here is this website containing stories of the Winchesters - John, Dean and Sam. I thought to myself that this could be an easy way to pass some time, particularly when we were in a hiatus period. I could read the stories and allow my imagination to take me with it back to the Supernatural world. So I began clicking around the site and checked some of the other stories out.

And in the process, I learned a few things.

First ... not all fan fiction is created equal. I became immediately critical of grammer, spelling, and story telling. There are some that are really good and there are some that are ... well, not.

Second ... I found I couldn't read stories that join in with the current timeline. I just couldn't. If I geot sucked into the story and it played out in my imagination, it then became a part of the series in my brain. I couldn't flip a switch. Because if the writing was well done and my imagination visualized these characters I know so well, I would begin to believe that this story should be a part of the series. I didn't want that. I wanted to enjoy Eric Kripke's series as HE presented it, not as others tried to represent it.

So, with these two realizations, I decided to remove myself from reading fan fiction (with the exception of a few pieces written by some of my virtual friends) and to keep the series "Kripke Pure" in my brain.

Then I was encouraged to read a fan fic by a friend who understood my dilemma but thought that she had something I would truly enjoy. With a simple click and the sweetest of stories, I discovered what is called WeeChester fan fic. Stories written from fans imaginations about the time prior to the series, the time when Dean and Sammy Winchester were growing up with their father, the ex-marine hunter, traveling the back roads of America and learning about things that go bump in the night. These stories I can read and enjoy because they don't change what I see in my head as I watch the program that Kripke has created. There's still some that are really good and some that ... well, aren't. I can navigate around that. However, it is fun to think about how it all started for Dean and Sam and imagine their life on the road with BDW.

Now ... what exactly does all this have to do with a service contractor's life being saved, you ask?

Well, here's the thing. Friday morning I had some extra time before heading to work. Having not really been on the computer much during the previous week just for fun, I decided to check out the fan fic and see if there was anything short to start my day off with a WeeChester smile on my face. I came across one that I hadn't read before that was written by an author whose writing I enjoy. I brewed another mug of tea and took 30 minutes to just enjoy before heading into what turned out to be a rather hectic day. It was a precious story, set at a time when Dean was eleven and Sammy was not quite yet seven. A story of a father who makes mistakes but loves his boys with all his heart.

It was wonderful and I continued thinking about it as I drove to the office and began my work day which included a visit from a service contractor work man who has a tendency to absolutely make me crazy (not in a good way) with his condescending attitude. Plus the fact that where he had to work invaded my personal space but due to the work I was doing, I couldn't move somewhere else. After an hour of putting up with his proximity and his attitude and his ... well ... just being there ... I began having the most delightful dreams of how to put him out of my misery.

Have I mentioned my imagination? It's good in this area too.

Just as I was contemplating a particularly wicked thought of what to do with my calculator the strains of AC/DC's "Back in Black" come ringing out of his pocket instantly switching my imagination to visualize the Winchester's Impala driving up the road. Answering his phone I could hear the voice of his child's teacher telling him of a situation with his son ... his six year old son. (Did I mention the proximity of him invading my personal space? I wasn't eavesdropping ... I was sitting that close and his volume was that loud.) Having his child put on the phone and hearing his fatherly voice talk so calmly to a clearly sad and upset little boy, I sat there quietly remembering the wonderful story I read that morning.

Art and Life were imitating each other.

For in Art, the author had painted a picture in my mind of the John we all know - a man who drove us insane with his marine tactic attitude but ultimately charmed us with the obvious love he had for his sons and his desire to protect them.

For in Life, I dealt with a man whose condescension and invasion made me consider mahem upon him before he ultimately charmed me with the obvious love he had for his son and his desire to make everything alright for him.


*** If you're interested in the WeeChester story I so enjoyed you can read it HERE. ***