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More from CiceroKit
Some fan fiction...
Supernatural Christmas: “Anything for the quick life”
It was cold outside of Bobby Singer’s auto salvage shop, the ground covered with a light dusting of snow. Bobby never imagined he would be spending Christmas in a wheelchair, and now that the apocalypse had started, the holiday seemed a bit pointless. He found himself thinking back on when he was a young man, before he started hunting. He had a wife. He had a semblance of a normal life. Those days were so far behind him. He poured himself a whisky and Coke and continued his research.
Death was on the march, and neither Bobby nor the Winchester boys really knew how to deal with it. Sam and Dean were downtown assessing the situation. Oddly enough, the inhabitants of the small town seemed untouched. Less than a week ago, the two watched as a town full of people fell, and it seemed as if this would be no slow death, but that is exactly what it was. Death was moving through cities unnoticed.
Dean stood at a local newsstand scouring headlines. The most abnormal story making the news appeared to be a real life Ebenezer Scrooge story. “Telecom mogul donates entire year’s earnings to Oxfam,” one read, “Bah Humbug no more!” read another. Sam came running up, “you find anything?” “Only this story about some stingy old guy doing a 180 for the holidays,” Dean held up a newspaper for Sam to look at. “Okay… not exactly what we are on the lookout for.”
“It’s weird Sammy… everything seems surprisingly normal… and that, that isn’t normal,” said Dean. “Well, maybe Bobby has turned up something,” said Sam, then he continued, “I need you to move the car up a block or so… I have something to load up.”
Dean peered down the road where a man was selling Christmas trees. “Sam, tell me you didn’t…” but before he could continue, Sam was running ahead of him, lifting up a tree. Dean shook his head and walked over. “We’re not going to be hanging around here much longer,” Dean said. “I know Dean, but I thought it might be nice for Bobby… you know, holiday cheer,” said Sam. Sam grabbed the tree and some rope and headed back towards the car.
“Oh no, not on the ’67 Impala,” protested Dean. “Well, I don’t think it will fit in the trunk… come on, help me tie it up here,” Sam said cheerily.
Dean pulled up the collar on his jacket, and slid behind the wheel, embarrassed for people to see the tree tied to the top of his baby. Sam flipped the radio dial until he found Eartha Kitt singing “Santa Baby.”
“Oh God, you’ve got to be kidding me,” grumbled Dean. Although, seeing his brother acting a bit like his old self secretly pleased him. It seemed like none of the events of the past year had happened. Was this man with child-like glee for the holidays the same man who had been addicted to demon blood? The same man who had brought about Armageddon?
As much as Dean would’ve liked to let all that go, he couldn’t. His very life was facing that every day. When he had spent time in Hell, he had endured a terrible fate, but this was a different kind of Hell. This was Hell on earth.
Bobby heard a car pull up and peeked out the window. Sam and Dean were back already. Somehow, this gave Bobby a chill. Either they found something horrendous or nothing at all. Death had always seemed to be pretty cut and dry, but the horseman, Death, appeared to be anything but.
“Find anything?” Bobby peered up at Dean. “No, nothing out of the ordinary… well, except this,” Dean tossed a couple newspapers on the table in front of Bobby. “What, the stingy rich guy who suddenly gave away huge amounts of money… that was just on Good Morning America,” said Bobby in an irritated tone. “No signs of death?” “None,” replied Sam, removing his gloves and coat.
Sam headed into the other room. “Oh yeah, the ghost of Christmas present here has a gift for you,” Dean rolled his eyes. Sam dragged in the Christmas tree from the foyer. “What the… you idiot,” grumbled Bobby, “you’re getting pine needles all over the place!”
Sam just grinned, “oh, I forgot the ornaments out in the car,” he ran outside and came in with an arm’s load of bulbs and candy canes.
Castiel followed Sam inside of the house. “I see someone is in the spirit of Christmas,” he said, startling Sam. Cas helped Sam place the tree on a stand, and then shot a glance over at Dean and Bobby, “so any signs of the horseman?”
Dean shook his head no. “There are no signs of the reapers either,” said Cas, “they must be somewhere, but I’ve not seen them on my travels.”
Miami Beach, Florida
It was a warm 78 degrees and only two days before Christmas. James Stern decided to go for a jog. Ever since donating his year’s wages, he felt remarkably good. No more acid reflux, or creaky joints. He was considering donating half of his total worth. He decided he would wait until Christmas Eve to announce that. Why did he ever think he needed so much money, anyway?
Life was finally good for James. He felt something he never had before… purpose. His purpose was to help others. Help them live a life of dignity, of value. Help others to be able to get on their feet and build a new life for themselves.
He had no idea who the spirits were in life, but he was so grateful they visited him before it was too late. He chuckled to himself, thinking how every Christmas when he was a child, his mother would read “A Christmas Carol” to him and his brother. He used to resent how they had left him so early in his life, both killed in a car accident. He had been the sole survivor.
For years, he spent his life as an embittered man, only focused on driving profits for the Telecom company he started. He chuckled, thinking how cell phones truly annoyed them. At least this year they were doing some good. Funding a village well drilling project in Africa. Helping young girls in the Middle East to go to school.
He smiled, feeling content.
Sam searched the Internet for any information on the horseman Death. Bobby had since went to bed, and Dean was reading over the story about Mr. Stern. “Must be nice to live that life… make billions and then give it away… actually know that you helped people instead of wondering if you are only prolonging their agony…”
Sam looked up from his laptop with a start as Cas said, “you must not think that way… all hope is not lost… we just have to find the path to take…”
Dean shook his head, “I don’t know man, Death surfaced, and as he did, a town of people fell… now there is nothing?” Dean looked down at the newspapers, “there aren’t even any obituaries.”
Sam jumped from his chair and rifled through the stack of newspapers. “You’re right… but how can that be?”
An agonized expression washed over Cas’ face. He peered down at the front page of one of the newspapers to see the article about James Stern. “You know, on the Today Show, the guy said he had been visited by three spirits.”
Sam and Dean looked up at Cas, simultaneously blurting, “spirits?” “Spirits, as in Dickens’?” Dean prompted. “Since when do angels watch the Today Show?” asked Sam.
Cas looked oblivious to the comment. “Why didn’t the newspapers say anything about this?” asked Dean. Cas explained, “the guy only just said this on the Today Show… he had been afraid to mention it, but said he had to tell the real story…”
Sam and Dean looked at each other and got up, knowing they would have to make it down to Miami in time for Christmas. They had an 18 hour drive ahead of them.
Sam walked over to Cas, “you’ll tell Bobby… oh, and here,” Sam handed Cas two boxes of candy canes, “put these on the tree for me…”
The roads were wet, and few people were traveling this stretch of highway. Sam found a station playing Perry Como singing “White Christmas.” “Dude, again with the Christmas music?” Dean rolled his eyes at Sam.
The sun was just beginning to rise on the horizon as the Winchester boys made their way down I-75. Sam reached into his jacket and pulled out a candy cane. Dean glanced over, “you wouldn’t happen to have another one of those?” Sam chuckled, “you… Mr. Bah Humbug… you want a candy cane?” Sam handed Dean a candy cane. “You know Sam, candy canes weren’t originally a Christmas thing… they were made to keep little brothers quiet.”
The car sped down the highway. It was the morning before Christmas and they had half their journey ahead of them. Dean pulled off the interstate to fill the tank and grab a couple burgers. “So, do you suppose that Death will continue to take a holiday over Christmas?” Sam asked. “We can only hope so Sammy,” replied Dean, unwrapping a burger.
“Hello Mr. Stern… Merry Christmas,” answered Pamela Reed, SternTel’s public relations coordinator. Pam was in a cheery mood ever since Stern had announced the donation to Oxfam. Normally, she detested working over the holidays, but this year, it was a welcome change. So much easier to promote a company when the founder has chosen to do something good. And the real kicker was, it wasn’t even for the sake of good public relations, which of course it was.
“I would be happy to write up a statement… half your total worth? Wow, that is great Mr. Stern!” Pam began typing up the statement before completing her conversation. A tear ran down her cheek. This was the kind of day she relished. No one could call her a heartless flack when the company she worked for would be associated with such generosity. She felt inspired to give something of herself this Christmas too.
Her doorbell rang just as she finished typing the last line of the press statement, borrowing from Dickens, “God bless us every one!” It was a friend of hers who worked at the homeless shelter. “These boxes of food and toys are just what our clients need this time of year… thank you so much,” said the lady to Pam. Pam helped her friend carry five box loads of wrapped gifts to her car then rushed back into the house to email the statement over to Sterns. She cheerfully dialed his number, “I just sent it over… if you want any changes made, you know where to reach me…”
It was nearing 4:00 p.m., and Dean and Sam were just crossing Florida state lines. “We don’t have much further now,” said Sam, looking down at a map. The news over the radio just announced that James Stern would be making an important announcement this evening at 8 p.m. from the SternTel headquarters.
Sam and Dean looked at each other briefly, “We better hurry,” said Sam. Neither knew what to expect, but everything seemed to be revolving around this one event.
SternTel headquarters, 6:30 p.m.
James read over the statement Pam had prepared for him several times. He looked around his quiet office. As content as he had felt earlier, something seemed to be missing. He picked up the phone and dialed Pam’s number.
“Hello, Pam… I have a favor to ask of you… no, the statement is fine… better than fine, it is perfect… could you meet me over at the office in an hour?” James spoke with a sense of urgency. “You could? Wonderful!”
James hung up the phone. Just then, Sam passed by Mr. Stern’s office, pushing a large broom. James called out, “you there… what are you doing working on Christmas Eve?”
Sam replied, “I am on the schedule.” “No, I don’t mean it like that son… it is a holiday…” said James. The cheerful tone made Sam wonder if there was anything to investigate here. Maybe this was just a guy who had a change of heart and wanted to pay homage to the Dickens novel by saying that stuff about three spirits. Such spirits were unlike any that Sam and Dean had encountered.
“That money you donated to Oxfam… that sure was kind of you sir,” Sam said. James chuckled, “that was only the beginning… in about an hour, I am going to announce to the world that I am giving away half of my total worth… I would give more, but I am going to be married soon… one thing, James Stern does not take no for an answer,” he chuckled merrily.
“Congratulations sir. Who is the lucky girl?” Sam said. “Pam… our PR person… oh, I haven’t asked her yet, but I think she will say yes.” James replied.
“Do you mind if I ask you a question?” Sam urged. “Sure… what is it son?” James replied. “On the Today Show, you said you had been visited by three spirits…” Sam began. James interrupted the question, “yes, yes I had… you know, I used to not believe in that sort of thing… but these three… they were so real.” “What did they look like?” Sam asked. “Well, they weren’t exactly out of Dickens, but that is what people think. One was a child… well, a baby actually. In a black stroller… Victorian era, I think.”
“Did the baby say anything?” asked Sam. “Well, no. A baby that age really couldn’t. But I knew there was something significant. It made me think of my mother. She and my brother died in a car accident when I was a young lad.”
“Your mother?” Sam was a bit puzzled. “Yes, she always fancied Victorian era things. That and she was pregnant when she died. I kind of thought the baby could be my sister. But the next spirit, he reminded me so of my brother, if he had grown to be a man,” James continued, “he pulls up on this shiny black vintage Harley Davidson motorcycle… and he has this look about him, kind of like a young Steve McQueen… he had to be my brother…” Sam nodded.
“You know, I resented him for years… how he and Mom left me alone with our drunken father. I had a rough upbringing after they died. I was placed in foster home after foster home. My dad always favored my brother. I was just a painful reminder for him. He died last year, old and alone in a nursing home…”
“But he had you,” Sam interrupted.
“No… I never even visited him. I actually spit on his grave. I was so certain he would rot in Hell. He used to hit my mom and us kids. Actually used his belt on us. But he did have a soft spot for my brother. My brother was a sort of rebel. He was bound to turn into a man’s man, you know? I was the studious one. And look where it got me? I became a billionaire.”
“The third ghost…” Sam started to ask.
“Funny thing, the third ghost was my father. I knew when I saw him that I had been wrong. Wrong about everything. He wasn’t in Hell. He came here to warn me, I believe. I was living a wrong life…”
James pulled out an old picture of his family in front of their old black Pontiac. “My dad… funny, you wouldn’t think a ghost would need to walk with a cane, but he did. Just like the last I saw him. This is the only picture I have of my family anymore.”
Sam looked at the picture. “This car in the photo… have you seen a car like it recently?”
James looked up at Sam, “Well that is an odd question… but come to think of it, yeah. One of the local news reporters drove up in a car identical to that one… weird, huh?”
Sam blurted, “I just remembered… I have to call my brother… Christmas greetings…” as he darted out of the office and moved briskly down the hall. He pulled out his phone, “Dean… it’s him… it’s Death…”
Dean waited in the Impala as numerous news crews pulled into the SternTel parking lot. His eyes scoured the area for any signs of a 1958 Pontiac Bonneville. There were no signs of the vehicle. He circled his car around the building and his eyes suddenly fixed on a cherry 1972 Harley Davidson motorcycle. The bike looked out of place amidst the sea of white news station vans. There were no signs of anyone in motorcycle gear.
Reporters began to file inside of the building. Dean clipped on a phony press badge and followed the news crews in.
The room was filled with reporters and a woman dressed in a green suit with a festive red shell underneath the jacket stood by the stage. Sam came in through the rear door of the conference room. Dean walked briskly over to meet him.
“No sign of the Pontiac… but there was a cherry vintage Harley parked out front,” Dean said to Sam. “Stern mentioned that one of the spirits rode in on a Harley… said the guy looked like Steve McQueen…”
Sam and Dean each looked around the room. “The only guy who remotely fits that description… well… is you,” Sam says to Dean. “Well thanks Sammy, but that doesn’t help…”
Dean’s eyes fix on a black leather jacket hanging on the back of one of the chairs. He nudges Sam and points to the jacket, “he’s here.”
Pam stepped in front of the microphone and began introducing James Stern. James stepped on to the stage and set his notes on the podium.
“Pam here prepared a wonderful speech for me, but you know, I’m just too excited to delay this any longer…”
Sam notices a young man walking towards the stage. He quickly walks up behind the man, only to notice that it is one of the news photographers, who looks a bit more like Ashton Kutcher than Steve McQueen. Sam shrugs and looks back at Dean.
James continues, “I asked you all here tonight because I have a few important announcements to make. I have decided to retire from my post as CEO of SternTel and am pledging half my total worth to Oxfam…”
The reporters and cameramen bustle at the announcement. James continues, “but that news is small potatoes compared to this… Pam, will you join me on stage?”
Pam, a bit stunned, hustles on to the stage. James gets down on one knee. “Pamela Reed, will you be my wife?” James holds a ring before Pam. Pam looks into James’ eyes and clutches her heart, falling to the floor.
“Pam!” James shouts. Everyone in the room believes the young woman has fainted, but Dean and Sam know better. They rush to the stage and yell to James, “get down!”
A young man moves back stage and Dean pulls the Colt from inside his jacket. Sam grabs Dean’s shoulder, “that won’t work on him…”
The reporters begin to hit the floor, as James is now shaking Pam’s limp body, crying and shouting, “Pam!”
The young man vanishes. Dean and Sam look over the room and see that James is the only other person left alive in the conference room.
“Mr. Stern, I think you should come with us,” Sam says, trying to maintain some calm in his voice. James rises to his feet and the three men rush out of the building. The Harley Davidson is no longer in the parking lot.
A long moment of silence passes inside the Impala, and then James asks Sam, “is this your brother?” Sam nods. “Huh. He looks a little like Steve McQueen,” James says. Dean looks in the rearview mirror back at James.
“Sammy, just how do we defeat Death?” Dean inquires. Sam looks over his shoulder at James, “we can’t… but I think we found who can…”
The men pull up to a filling station. A television set blares the news about the mysterious deaths of the people at SternTel. “James Stern, who recently donated a large share of his fortune is a suspect. Police are on the lookout…” the noise from the broadcast trails off as Dean takes Sam aside, “Okay Sammy, just how is this guy going to defeat death.”
“There was something about Stern’s recounting of the visit by the three spirits… it was like that old riddle…” Sam explains. “Riddle?” Dean asks. “Yeah, that one about man… the creature who walks on all fours at the beginning of life, then on two legs in the midst of his life, and on three legs at the end…” Sam continues, “I’m not exactly sure how Stern is supposed to defeat Death, but the answer is man… and why this man? Why was he visited by the spirits?”
Dean shrugs, “I guess it is the only lead we have to go on… but if the police are on the lookout for this guy, we’ve got to get moving…”
Bobby woke up at the sound of tires skidding into his iced over gravel driveway. He peeked out the window to see Sam and Dean walk up. “Bobby, this is James Stern,” Sam says as he removes his gloves. “I was expecting you,” says Bobby, “so you’re the one who is going to defeat Death?”
Part 2: A day wasted…
“Anyone up for a proper English breakfast?” James springs out of the kitchen. Bobby grumbles, “shouldn’t you be depressed?” Sam shoots Bobby an angry look. “You know, I should be, but I’m not. I just donated half my fortune to do good around the world, and I am feeling great,” James slides some eggs on to the four plates on the table, “and despite being sought as a murder suspect and losing the woman I was going to marry, I just feel wonderful.”
Dean awakens and stumbles off of the couch. “Breakfast!” James yells. “Someone’s oddly cheerful today,” Dean says as he pulls up a chair at the kitchen table. “What is this green and white thing?” Dean asks with some disgust. “That is bubbles and squeak,” explains James.
“You know, me mum was from England…” James continues to go bring more food to the table. “Wow, this eggnog is… noggy?” Sam blurts. “Oh yes… poured a bit of extra nutmeg in there, as we will be traveling and all,” replies James. “Whoa… we can’t go anywhere with you just yet… there is a man search for you right now,” says Dean.
Cas walks in, “you must be Jimmy,” he says. “Jimmy… you know, no one has called me that since my mother, God rest her soul,” James sets another place at the table. “Wait, you knew about him?” Dean asks Cas. “I just spoke to his guardian… she’s here,” Cas responds.
A beautiful young blond woman walks in and pours a cup of coffee. “I would like you all to meet Emmanuelle,” Cas announces. “Emmanuelle? She’s Emmanuelle? Who knew Skin-a-max was airing religious programming?” Dean jokes. “So you’re Dean Winchester,” Emmanuelle looks Dean over, “don’t worry, if those same thoughts that you had when you met your mother didn’t send you back to Hell, this won’t either.”
“You know, I like her,” Sam retorts. “You do know this is just a shell… this lovely young lady is very devout… and there are some of us angels who have a sense of humor…” Emmanuelle’s eyes dart over at Cas, “by the way, call me Emmy.”
“Hello Jimmy… just when I thought you were a lost cause… you’re timing could have been better though…” Emmy says to James. “I take it that it’s been awhile since you’ve seen him?” questions Sam. “Well, like I said, I figured he was a lost cause… but look at him now, the audacity of hope!” Emmy exclaims.
“Audacity of hope, huh?” Bobby snorts. “Well, yeah, Barry got that from me…” Emmy says. “President Obama is one of your charges?” Sam questions. “That is what I mean about timing… I had to shift my focus to Jimmy here and then Barry goes and announces a troop surge in Afghanistan.” “Couldn’t that be one of Death’s shenanigans?” asks Sam. “Well, no… Barry is very intelligent and well-meaning, as humans go, but sometimes he just gets these really stupid ideas stuck in his head,” Emmy looks over at Jimmy.
James asks, “Would you like me to fix you a plate?” “Ah, no… I’ll be good once I have my coffee,” Emmy says, “but Cas is partially to blame too… I thought you were going to have Joey talk some sense into him.” “Joey?” Dean questions. “As in Joe Biden?… I think I now understand why you are so stoic,” Dean elbows Cas.
“So how is Sunshine here supposed to defeat Death?” asks Bobby. “Oh, the answer will reveal itself… Jimmy really has to be the one to figure it out,” Emmy smiles over at James. “So what now?” Sam asks. Cas replies, “it looks like Jimmy needs to call the shots.” Jimmy peers up, “road trip!”
The Impala sped away from Bobby’s house. Cas stayed behind with Bobby, as Dean asked him to. The four travelers drove around, not certain where they needed to go. “Jimmy, make up your mind,” commanded Dean. “Your trying to rush him will do no good… he needs to arrive at the answer in his own time,” retorted Emmy.
“You keep talking about this answer like you know what needs to be done… if so, why don’t you just say it,” snarled Dean. “I know nothing more than I have said,” Emmy replied.
“Breaking news this hour: Authorities have tracked down James Stern in the small town of Neillsville, Wisconsin and have brought him in for questioning regarding what is now being described as a mass suicide on Christmas Eve…” the announcer on the radio trailed off. “Well that eases my mind a little… at least that gives us more time…” said Dean. “Oh that poor man… being wrongly held… he must be terrified…” replied Jimmy.
“Jimmy, the change in you…” Emmy said. “We must go to that police station,” commanded Jimmy. “What?” shouted Dean, “You must be nuts.” “Dean,” Sam scowled, “we have to listen to him.”
It was nearly a seven hour drive to Neillsville, and it was snowing heavily as they headed northwest. Dean pulled off the highway to fuel up. “So what is the plan when we get there?” Dean asked. “It looks like the police station where they have this guy is actually in a neighboring city… Marshfield,” said Sam.
“Jimmy, do you have an idea for when we get to Marshfield,” prompted Emmy. “All I know is that we have to get them to release this poor man,” said Jimmy. The four continued on their journey.
When the Impala pulled into Marshfield, the city looked deserted. “Don’t suppose this is all because of the snow storm… or because of the holidays…” Sam shrugged. “Jimmy, it is probably best for you to stay out in the car,” Dean suggested. “But the authorities won’t believe anyone else… they are certain that they have me,” said Jimmy. Sam then said, “I have a plan.”
Dean and Sam grabbed a couple of suit coats from the trunk. “The FBI routine again… really?” Dean asked, “That is the plan? Won’t they find it fishy when they see two James Sterns?” “That is a situation we have to avoid… well, for now…” Sam replied. “What about Jimmy? He is set to turn himself in.” Dean pressed. “I think I can convince him we need to take the time to find out who this other guy is… for all we know, this could be the horseman…” Dean trailed off, his eyes meeting Jimmy’s as the man watched from inside the car.
“Jimmy, are you okay with going along with Sam and Dean,” asked Emmy. “Yes… I can see that this is for the best right now…” replied Jimmy. Dean strutted inside the police station, showing the fake FBI credentials. “My partner will be in soon… we would like to speak to Mr. Stern.” The police officer nodded, “yes, we were expecting you… you have a rough drive getting over here? That was one hell of a blizzard,” the officer trailed off as he led Dean down a corridor to the holding cell.
Sam instructed Jimmy to stay inside one of the men’s room stalls until the time was right. Inside the holding cell, Dean asked the man to identify himself. “They think I am this James Stern fellow, but I am just a banker from Kenosha… Ken Daly is the name… I have no family left, but I like to travel up here every year at Christmas still the same… it is where I spent time as a boy…”
Dean sympathized with the man. To be someone no one notices, without any connections to anyone… it was a fate he feared would become his own. Sam arrived at the holding cell and took Dean aside. “What do you think?” he asked. Dean replied, “I think he is just a poor sap who happens to look like Stern… says his name is Ken Daly… a banker from Kenosha…”
Sam took out his laptop and did a quick search. “Which bank do you work for?” Sam asked. "First Federal," replied Daly. "You are a mortgage lender there I see," said Sam. “Yes, that’s right…” said the man. “The picture on the Web site must’ve been taken a few years back, but it looks like you…” Sam replied.
Sam and Dean left the holding cell to discuss their next course of action. “What do we do about Jimmy?” Dean questioned, “He is ready to turn himself in.” “We are still supposed to let him decide, Dean,” Sam replied. “I will go have a word with him.”
Sam walked into the men’s room and checked the bottoms of the stalls. No one else was there. “Jimmy?” Sam whispered. “Yes, I’m here,” replied Jimmy. “Jimmy, this man appears to be a banker from Kenosha… you were right… just someone who was wrongly accused… are you sure you still want to turn yourself in?” inquired Sam. “Yes, I think that is best,” replied Jimmy.
Jimmy walked out of the stall and Sam walked him over to one of the officers on duty. “You have the wrong man in custody… this is the real James Stern.” “Are you sure?” retorted the officer defiantly, “the guy on the news footage looked a lot older than this guy.” Jimmy had looked remarkably younger than he had only yesterday, Sam thought, but maybe it was just the child-like innocence that surfaced in the man.
Jimmy took out his wallet and showed his ID, Social Security card and several bank cards to the officer. “Well, that all looks to be irrefutable evidence,” the officer shrugged. Ken Daly was allowed to leave, but as he did, the man began clutching his chest and fell to the floor, his body already cold as if he had been dead for hours.
“Call a paramedic,” an officer instructed. “Death just seems to follow you around Mr. Stern,” his eyes darted to Jimmy.
Death did seem to be following, or at least leading Jimmy Stern. But where was Death? Dean walked up to Sam, “Okay, so now what do we do? Stay here and wait… we don’t even know who we are looking for…” Just then, an officer bearing an incredible resemblance to a younger Jimmy Stern walked up, “Feds huh? I know who you two really are…”
It was Death.
“It must drive you insane to have to rely on this old fool to come up with a plan to defeat me,” the pale young man said. “You remember how those men in that town just collapsed as the life left them… you haven’t seen anything yet…”
Hearing screams, Sam and Dean spun around to see one of the officers on duty burst into flames, and then another. “Spontaneous combustion… an oldie but a goodie,” smiled death. “Oh, don’t worry… neither of you need fear me… I only take those who have served their purpose, and neither of you have yet…”
“Okay, I get it… you are serving Lucifer and he has told you he needs Sam, but I’m the guy who is supposed to bring all this to a crashing halt,” Dean snapped.
“That is unlikely Dean… your purpose is to get Sam to fulfill his,” a weak smile formed on Death’s lips. Dean felt his ire boil inside him as Sam shot him a look. “What about Jimmy?” asked Sam.
“That fool actually thinks he has found purpose in his life… he thinks that he saved a great many people, but what he really did was to bring Death to them. A well supplies drinking water to a village, then contaminates them with arsenic. Schooling for some girls from the Middle East… too bad their plane plummeted into the Atlantic. Purpose? He had no purpose. Only I had that purpose.”
Death pulled a new suit of clothes from a locker. “You boys are free to take that imbecile with you. He must be good for a laugh.” Death chuckled, wrinkles forming on his face as he began to look more and more like Stern did only yesterday.
Death headed out the door. Dean followed him. “I don’t know what you intend to do… I’m Death… there is no stopping me…” Sam rushed back to the holding cell to find a much younger Jimmy.
“I know what I need to do,” Jimmy said. “Can you help me Sam?” Tears formed in Sam’s eyes as he nodded.
Death climbed into a car resembling an old hearse, black paint chipping away and fading. Dean quickly slid behind the wheel of the Impala. “What now?” Emmy inquired. “That is Death… he is about to ravage the land.” “I must go to Jimmy,” Emmy vanished. Just then, Death’s car went up in flames.
Inside the jail cell, Sam held a pillow in his hands, weeping softly. “You did the right thing Sam,” Emmy said, sitting down next to Jimmy’s crumpled body. “We don’t normally do this sort of thing,” Emmy whispered into Jimmy’s ear, “but there are special cases… when someone changes so much, giving so much of themselves… that is the real miracle of birth…”
Emmy instructed Sam to shield his eyes and ears as the small cell filled with intense white light and tremendous shrills.
“I understand you wish to perform one more generous act on earth, and I think that is truly wonderful,” Emmy said, and then she too vanished. Only Sam was left in the cell. He walked out to the parking lot where Dean was waiting for him.
“What just happened?” Dean asked, “Where is Emmy and Jimmy?” “They’re gone,” Sam replied. “Gone?” Dean inquired. “Dean, let’s head back.”
It was a bright winter night, the stars reflecting their light on the freshly fallen snow. The two were quiet on their drive back. They pulled into Bobby’s driveway, surprised to see Christmas lights lit on the outside of the house. Dean and Sam looked at each other, “Cas,” they said simultaneously.
The boys walked in to find Bobby in better spirits than they had seen him in for years. “Merry Christmas boys,” Bobby handed them each a bottle of beer. “Oh, I almost forgot… there are gifts for you under the tree…” “Okay Bobby,” Sam said as he walked toward the tree. “No… let me get them…” Bobby got up out of his chair and walked over to the tree. Tears began to fill Dean’s eyes, “Bobby, I… I…” Dean walked over to hug him.
“Okay, okay… no need to get all menopausal now,” grumbled Bobby. “Look, would you like for me to put on Lifetime for you?”
Sam kneeled down by the tree, “Bobby, what are these packages?” “Bobby looked over at Sam, “oh, those are from Jimmy… I guess he must’ve took a liking to you two… lord only knows why,” Bobby chuckled gruffly. Sam unwrapped the gift addressed to him. Stunned, he held up a large bundle of one hundred dollar bills. Dean gaped at the sight, and quickly unwrapped the package addressed to him. The same thing.
“You know boys, I bet Jimmy would have wanted you to share some of that to help a man get back on his feet… maybe even help him so that he can join you in the good fight again…” Bobby said. “Of course… of course,” said Sam, “There must be at least $50,000 here…”
Dean smiled, spreading out the pile of cash in front of him, “a genuine Christmas miracle!”
Outside, the sound of church bells filled the early morning. Cas looked up at the sky, “Welcome to our family Jimmy.”
Supernatural Christmas: “Anything for the quick life”
It was cold outside of Bobby Singer’s auto salvage shop, the ground covered with a light dusting of snow. Bobby never imagined he would be spending Christmas in a wheelchair, and now that the apocalypse had started, the holiday seemed a bit pointless. He found himself thinking back on when he was a young man, before he started hunting. He had a wife. He had a semblance of a normal life. Those days were so far behind him. He poured himself a whisky and Coke and continued his research.
Death was on the march, and neither Bobby nor the Winchester boys really knew how to deal with it. Sam and Dean were downtown assessing the situation. Oddly enough, the inhabitants of the small town seemed untouched. Less than a week ago, the two watched as a town full of people fell, and it seemed as if this would be no slow death, but that is exactly what it was. Death was moving through cities unnoticed.
Dean stood at a local newsstand scouring headlines. The most abnormal story making the news appeared to be a real life Ebenezer Scrooge story. “Telecom mogul donates entire year’s earnings to Oxfam,” one read, “Bah Humbug no more!” read another. Sam came running up, “you find anything?” “Only this story about some stingy old guy doing a 180 for the holidays,” Dean held up a newspaper for Sam to look at. “Okay… not exactly what we are on the lookout for.”
“It’s weird Sammy… everything seems surprisingly normal… and that, that isn’t normal,” said Dean. “Well, maybe Bobby has turned up something,” said Sam, then he continued, “I need you to move the car up a block or so… I have something to load up.”
Dean peered down the road where a man was selling Christmas trees. “Sam, tell me you didn’t…” but before he could continue, Sam was running ahead of him, lifting up a tree. Dean shook his head and walked over. “We’re not going to be hanging around here much longer,” Dean said. “I know Dean, but I thought it might be nice for Bobby… you know, holiday cheer,” said Sam. Sam grabbed the tree and some rope and headed back towards the car.
“Oh no, not on the ’67 Impala,” protested Dean. “Well, I don’t think it will fit in the trunk… come on, help me tie it up here,” Sam said cheerily.
Dean pulled up the collar on his jacket, and slid behind the wheel, embarrassed for people to see the tree tied to the top of his baby. Sam flipped the radio dial until he found Eartha Kitt singing “Santa Baby.”
“Oh God, you’ve got to be kidding me,” grumbled Dean. Although, seeing his brother acting a bit like his old self secretly pleased him. It seemed like none of the events of the past year had happened. Was this man with child-like glee for the holidays the same man who had been addicted to demon blood? The same man who had brought about Armageddon?
As much as Dean would’ve liked to let all that go, he couldn’t. His very life was facing that every day. When he had spent time in Hell, he had endured a terrible fate, but this was a different kind of Hell. This was Hell on earth.
Bobby heard a car pull up and peeked out the window. Sam and Dean were back already. Somehow, this gave Bobby a chill. Either they found something horrendous or nothing at all. Death had always seemed to be pretty cut and dry, but the horseman, Death, appeared to be anything but.
“Find anything?” Bobby peered up at Dean. “No, nothing out of the ordinary… well, except this,” Dean tossed a couple newspapers on the table in front of Bobby. “What, the stingy rich guy who suddenly gave away huge amounts of money… that was just on Good Morning America,” said Bobby in an irritated tone. “No signs of death?” “None,” replied Sam, removing his gloves and coat.
Sam headed into the other room. “Oh yeah, the ghost of Christmas present here has a gift for you,” Dean rolled his eyes. Sam dragged in the Christmas tree from the foyer. “What the… you idiot,” grumbled Bobby, “you’re getting pine needles all over the place!”
Sam just grinned, “oh, I forgot the ornaments out in the car,” he ran outside and came in with an arm’s load of bulbs and candy canes.
Castiel followed Sam inside of the house. “I see someone is in the spirit of Christmas,” he said, startling Sam. Cas helped Sam place the tree on a stand, and then shot a glance over at Dean and Bobby, “so any signs of the horseman?”
Dean shook his head no. “There are no signs of the reapers either,” said Cas, “they must be somewhere, but I’ve not seen them on my travels.”
Miami Beach, Florida
It was a warm 78 degrees and only two days before Christmas. James Stern decided to go for a jog. Ever since donating his year’s wages, he felt remarkably good. No more acid reflux, or creaky joints. He was considering donating half of his total worth. He decided he would wait until Christmas Eve to announce that. Why did he ever think he needed so much money, anyway?
Life was finally good for James. He felt something he never had before… purpose. His purpose was to help others. Help them live a life of dignity, of value. Help others to be able to get on their feet and build a new life for themselves.
He had no idea who the spirits were in life, but he was so grateful they visited him before it was too late. He chuckled to himself, thinking how every Christmas when he was a child, his mother would read “A Christmas Carol” to him and his brother. He used to resent how they had left him so early in his life, both killed in a car accident. He had been the sole survivor.
For years, he spent his life as an embittered man, only focused on driving profits for the Telecom company he started. He chuckled, thinking how cell phones truly annoyed them. At least this year they were doing some good. Funding a village well drilling project in Africa. Helping young girls in the Middle East to go to school.
He smiled, feeling content.
Sam searched the Internet for any information on the horseman Death. Bobby had since went to bed, and Dean was reading over the story about Mr. Stern. “Must be nice to live that life… make billions and then give it away… actually know that you helped people instead of wondering if you are only prolonging their agony…”
Sam looked up from his laptop with a start as Cas said, “you must not think that way… all hope is not lost… we just have to find the path to take…”
Dean shook his head, “I don’t know man, Death surfaced, and as he did, a town of people fell… now there is nothing?” Dean looked down at the newspapers, “there aren’t even any obituaries.”
Sam jumped from his chair and rifled through the stack of newspapers. “You’re right… but how can that be?”
An agonized expression washed over Cas’ face. He peered down at the front page of one of the newspapers to see the article about James Stern. “You know, on the Today Show, the guy said he had been visited by three spirits.”
Sam and Dean looked up at Cas, simultaneously blurting, “spirits?” “Spirits, as in Dickens’?” Dean prompted. “Since when do angels watch the Today Show?” asked Sam.
Cas looked oblivious to the comment. “Why didn’t the newspapers say anything about this?” asked Dean. Cas explained, “the guy only just said this on the Today Show… he had been afraid to mention it, but said he had to tell the real story…”
Sam and Dean looked at each other and got up, knowing they would have to make it down to Miami in time for Christmas. They had an 18 hour drive ahead of them.
Sam walked over to Cas, “you’ll tell Bobby… oh, and here,” Sam handed Cas two boxes of candy canes, “put these on the tree for me…”
The roads were wet, and few people were traveling this stretch of highway. Sam found a station playing Perry Como singing “White Christmas.” “Dude, again with the Christmas music?” Dean rolled his eyes at Sam.
The sun was just beginning to rise on the horizon as the Winchester boys made their way down I-75. Sam reached into his jacket and pulled out a candy cane. Dean glanced over, “you wouldn’t happen to have another one of those?” Sam chuckled, “you… Mr. Bah Humbug… you want a candy cane?” Sam handed Dean a candy cane. “You know Sam, candy canes weren’t originally a Christmas thing… they were made to keep little brothers quiet.”
The car sped down the highway. It was the morning before Christmas and they had half their journey ahead of them. Dean pulled off the interstate to fill the tank and grab a couple burgers. “So, do you suppose that Death will continue to take a holiday over Christmas?” Sam asked. “We can only hope so Sammy,” replied Dean, unwrapping a burger.
“Hello Mr. Stern… Merry Christmas,” answered Pamela Reed, SternTel’s public relations coordinator. Pam was in a cheery mood ever since Stern had announced the donation to Oxfam. Normally, she detested working over the holidays, but this year, it was a welcome change. So much easier to promote a company when the founder has chosen to do something good. And the real kicker was, it wasn’t even for the sake of good public relations, which of course it was.
“I would be happy to write up a statement… half your total worth? Wow, that is great Mr. Stern!” Pam began typing up the statement before completing her conversation. A tear ran down her cheek. This was the kind of day she relished. No one could call her a heartless flack when the company she worked for would be associated with such generosity. She felt inspired to give something of herself this Christmas too.
Her doorbell rang just as she finished typing the last line of the press statement, borrowing from Dickens, “God bless us every one!” It was a friend of hers who worked at the homeless shelter. “These boxes of food and toys are just what our clients need this time of year… thank you so much,” said the lady to Pam. Pam helped her friend carry five box loads of wrapped gifts to her car then rushed back into the house to email the statement over to Sterns. She cheerfully dialed his number, “I just sent it over… if you want any changes made, you know where to reach me…”
It was nearing 4:00 p.m., and Dean and Sam were just crossing Florida state lines. “We don’t have much further now,” said Sam, looking down at a map. The news over the radio just announced that James Stern would be making an important announcement this evening at 8 p.m. from the SternTel headquarters.
Sam and Dean looked at each other briefly, “We better hurry,” said Sam. Neither knew what to expect, but everything seemed to be revolving around this one event.
SternTel headquarters, 6:30 p.m.
James read over the statement Pam had prepared for him several times. He looked around his quiet office. As content as he had felt earlier, something seemed to be missing. He picked up the phone and dialed Pam’s number.
“Hello, Pam… I have a favor to ask of you… no, the statement is fine… better than fine, it is perfect… could you meet me over at the office in an hour?” James spoke with a sense of urgency. “You could? Wonderful!”
James hung up the phone. Just then, Sam passed by Mr. Stern’s office, pushing a large broom. James called out, “you there… what are you doing working on Christmas Eve?”
Sam replied, “I am on the schedule.” “No, I don’t mean it like that son… it is a holiday…” said James. The cheerful tone made Sam wonder if there was anything to investigate here. Maybe this was just a guy who had a change of heart and wanted to pay homage to the Dickens novel by saying that stuff about three spirits. Such spirits were unlike any that Sam and Dean had encountered.
“That money you donated to Oxfam… that sure was kind of you sir,” Sam said. James chuckled, “that was only the beginning… in about an hour, I am going to announce to the world that I am giving away half of my total worth… I would give more, but I am going to be married soon… one thing, James Stern does not take no for an answer,” he chuckled merrily.
“Congratulations sir. Who is the lucky girl?” Sam said. “Pam… our PR person… oh, I haven’t asked her yet, but I think she will say yes.” James replied.
“Do you mind if I ask you a question?” Sam urged. “Sure… what is it son?” James replied. “On the Today Show, you said you had been visited by three spirits…” Sam began. James interrupted the question, “yes, yes I had… you know, I used to not believe in that sort of thing… but these three… they were so real.” “What did they look like?” Sam asked. “Well, they weren’t exactly out of Dickens, but that is what people think. One was a child… well, a baby actually. In a black stroller… Victorian era, I think.”
“Did the baby say anything?” asked Sam. “Well, no. A baby that age really couldn’t. But I knew there was something significant. It made me think of my mother. She and my brother died in a car accident when I was a young lad.”
“Your mother?” Sam was a bit puzzled. “Yes, she always fancied Victorian era things. That and she was pregnant when she died. I kind of thought the baby could be my sister. But the next spirit, he reminded me so of my brother, if he had grown to be a man,” James continued, “he pulls up on this shiny black vintage Harley Davidson motorcycle… and he has this look about him, kind of like a young Steve McQueen… he had to be my brother…” Sam nodded.
“You know, I resented him for years… how he and Mom left me alone with our drunken father. I had a rough upbringing after they died. I was placed in foster home after foster home. My dad always favored my brother. I was just a painful reminder for him. He died last year, old and alone in a nursing home…”
“But he had you,” Sam interrupted.
“No… I never even visited him. I actually spit on his grave. I was so certain he would rot in Hell. He used to hit my mom and us kids. Actually used his belt on us. But he did have a soft spot for my brother. My brother was a sort of rebel. He was bound to turn into a man’s man, you know? I was the studious one. And look where it got me? I became a billionaire.”
“The third ghost…” Sam started to ask.
“Funny thing, the third ghost was my father. I knew when I saw him that I had been wrong. Wrong about everything. He wasn’t in Hell. He came here to warn me, I believe. I was living a wrong life…”
James pulled out an old picture of his family in front of their old black Pontiac. “My dad… funny, you wouldn’t think a ghost would need to walk with a cane, but he did. Just like the last I saw him. This is the only picture I have of my family anymore.”
Sam looked at the picture. “This car in the photo… have you seen a car like it recently?”
James looked up at Sam, “Well that is an odd question… but come to think of it, yeah. One of the local news reporters drove up in a car identical to that one… weird, huh?”
Sam blurted, “I just remembered… I have to call my brother… Christmas greetings…” as he darted out of the office and moved briskly down the hall. He pulled out his phone, “Dean… it’s him… it’s Death…”
Dean waited in the Impala as numerous news crews pulled into the SternTel parking lot. His eyes scoured the area for any signs of a 1958 Pontiac Bonneville. There were no signs of the vehicle. He circled his car around the building and his eyes suddenly fixed on a cherry 1972 Harley Davidson motorcycle. The bike looked out of place amidst the sea of white news station vans. There were no signs of anyone in motorcycle gear.
Reporters began to file inside of the building. Dean clipped on a phony press badge and followed the news crews in.
The room was filled with reporters and a woman dressed in a green suit with a festive red shell underneath the jacket stood by the stage. Sam came in through the rear door of the conference room. Dean walked briskly over to meet him.
“No sign of the Pontiac… but there was a cherry vintage Harley parked out front,” Dean said to Sam. “Stern mentioned that one of the spirits rode in on a Harley… said the guy looked like Steve McQueen…”
Sam and Dean each looked around the room. “The only guy who remotely fits that description… well… is you,” Sam says to Dean. “Well thanks Sammy, but that doesn’t help…”
Dean’s eyes fix on a black leather jacket hanging on the back of one of the chairs. He nudges Sam and points to the jacket, “he’s here.”
Pam stepped in front of the microphone and began introducing James Stern. James stepped on to the stage and set his notes on the podium.
“Pam here prepared a wonderful speech for me, but you know, I’m just too excited to delay this any longer…”
Sam notices a young man walking towards the stage. He quickly walks up behind the man, only to notice that it is one of the news photographers, who looks a bit more like Ashton Kutcher than Steve McQueen. Sam shrugs and looks back at Dean.
James continues, “I asked you all here tonight because I have a few important announcements to make. I have decided to retire from my post as CEO of SternTel and am pledging half my total worth to Oxfam…”
The reporters and cameramen bustle at the announcement. James continues, “but that news is small potatoes compared to this… Pam, will you join me on stage?”
Pam, a bit stunned, hustles on to the stage. James gets down on one knee. “Pamela Reed, will you be my wife?” James holds a ring before Pam. Pam looks into James’ eyes and clutches her heart, falling to the floor.
“Pam!” James shouts. Everyone in the room believes the young woman has fainted, but Dean and Sam know better. They rush to the stage and yell to James, “get down!”
A young man moves back stage and Dean pulls the Colt from inside his jacket. Sam grabs Dean’s shoulder, “that won’t work on him…”
The reporters begin to hit the floor, as James is now shaking Pam’s limp body, crying and shouting, “Pam!”
The young man vanishes. Dean and Sam look over the room and see that James is the only other person left alive in the conference room.
“Mr. Stern, I think you should come with us,” Sam says, trying to maintain some calm in his voice. James rises to his feet and the three men rush out of the building. The Harley Davidson is no longer in the parking lot.
A long moment of silence passes inside the Impala, and then James asks Sam, “is this your brother?” Sam nods. “Huh. He looks a little like Steve McQueen,” James says. Dean looks in the rearview mirror back at James.
“Sammy, just how do we defeat Death?” Dean inquires. Sam looks over his shoulder at James, “we can’t… but I think we found who can…”
The men pull up to a filling station. A television set blares the news about the mysterious deaths of the people at SternTel. “James Stern, who recently donated a large share of his fortune is a suspect. Police are on the lookout…” the noise from the broadcast trails off as Dean takes Sam aside, “Okay Sammy, just how is this guy going to defeat death.”
“There was something about Stern’s recounting of the visit by the three spirits… it was like that old riddle…” Sam explains. “Riddle?” Dean asks. “Yeah, that one about man… the creature who walks on all fours at the beginning of life, then on two legs in the midst of his life, and on three legs at the end…” Sam continues, “I’m not exactly sure how Stern is supposed to defeat Death, but the answer is man… and why this man? Why was he visited by the spirits?”
Dean shrugs, “I guess it is the only lead we have to go on… but if the police are on the lookout for this guy, we’ve got to get moving…”
Bobby woke up at the sound of tires skidding into his iced over gravel driveway. He peeked out the window to see Sam and Dean walk up. “Bobby, this is James Stern,” Sam says as he removes his gloves. “I was expecting you,” says Bobby, “so you’re the one who is going to defeat Death?”
Part 2: A day wasted…
“Anyone up for a proper English breakfast?” James springs out of the kitchen. Bobby grumbles, “shouldn’t you be depressed?” Sam shoots Bobby an angry look. “You know, I should be, but I’m not. I just donated half my fortune to do good around the world, and I am feeling great,” James slides some eggs on to the four plates on the table, “and despite being sought as a murder suspect and losing the woman I was going to marry, I just feel wonderful.”
Dean awakens and stumbles off of the couch. “Breakfast!” James yells. “Someone’s oddly cheerful today,” Dean says as he pulls up a chair at the kitchen table. “What is this green and white thing?” Dean asks with some disgust. “That is bubbles and squeak,” explains James.
“You know, me mum was from England…” James continues to go bring more food to the table. “Wow, this eggnog is… noggy?” Sam blurts. “Oh yes… poured a bit of extra nutmeg in there, as we will be traveling and all,” replies James. “Whoa… we can’t go anywhere with you just yet… there is a man search for you right now,” says Dean.
Cas walks in, “you must be Jimmy,” he says. “Jimmy… you know, no one has called me that since my mother, God rest her soul,” James sets another place at the table. “Wait, you knew about him?” Dean asks Cas. “I just spoke to his guardian… she’s here,” Cas responds.
A beautiful young blond woman walks in and pours a cup of coffee. “I would like you all to meet Emmanuelle,” Cas announces. “Emmanuelle? She’s Emmanuelle? Who knew Skin-a-max was airing religious programming?” Dean jokes. “So you’re Dean Winchester,” Emmanuelle looks Dean over, “don’t worry, if those same thoughts that you had when you met your mother didn’t send you back to Hell, this won’t either.”
“You know, I like her,” Sam retorts. “You do know this is just a shell… this lovely young lady is very devout… and there are some of us angels who have a sense of humor…” Emmanuelle’s eyes dart over at Cas, “by the way, call me Emmy.”
“Hello Jimmy… just when I thought you were a lost cause… you’re timing could have been better though…” Emmy says to James. “I take it that it’s been awhile since you’ve seen him?” questions Sam. “Well, like I said, I figured he was a lost cause… but look at him now, the audacity of hope!” Emmy exclaims.
“Audacity of hope, huh?” Bobby snorts. “Well, yeah, Barry got that from me…” Emmy says. “President Obama is one of your charges?” Sam questions. “That is what I mean about timing… I had to shift my focus to Jimmy here and then Barry goes and announces a troop surge in Afghanistan.” “Couldn’t that be one of Death’s shenanigans?” asks Sam. “Well, no… Barry is very intelligent and well-meaning, as humans go, but sometimes he just gets these really stupid ideas stuck in his head,” Emmy looks over at Jimmy.
James asks, “Would you like me to fix you a plate?” “Ah, no… I’ll be good once I have my coffee,” Emmy says, “but Cas is partially to blame too… I thought you were going to have Joey talk some sense into him.” “Joey?” Dean questions. “As in Joe Biden?… I think I now understand why you are so stoic,” Dean elbows Cas.
“So how is Sunshine here supposed to defeat Death?” asks Bobby. “Oh, the answer will reveal itself… Jimmy really has to be the one to figure it out,” Emmy smiles over at James. “So what now?” Sam asks. Cas replies, “it looks like Jimmy needs to call the shots.” Jimmy peers up, “road trip!”
The Impala sped away from Bobby’s house. Cas stayed behind with Bobby, as Dean asked him to. The four travelers drove around, not certain where they needed to go. “Jimmy, make up your mind,” commanded Dean. “Your trying to rush him will do no good… he needs to arrive at the answer in his own time,” retorted Emmy.
“You keep talking about this answer like you know what needs to be done… if so, why don’t you just say it,” snarled Dean. “I know nothing more than I have said,” Emmy replied.
“Breaking news this hour: Authorities have tracked down James Stern in the small town of Neillsville, Wisconsin and have brought him in for questioning regarding what is now being described as a mass suicide on Christmas Eve…” the announcer on the radio trailed off. “Well that eases my mind a little… at least that gives us more time…” said Dean. “Oh that poor man… being wrongly held… he must be terrified…” replied Jimmy.
“Jimmy, the change in you…” Emmy said. “We must go to that police station,” commanded Jimmy. “What?” shouted Dean, “You must be nuts.” “Dean,” Sam scowled, “we have to listen to him.”
It was nearly a seven hour drive to Neillsville, and it was snowing heavily as they headed northwest. Dean pulled off the highway to fuel up. “So what is the plan when we get there?” Dean asked. “It looks like the police station where they have this guy is actually in a neighboring city… Marshfield,” said Sam.
“Jimmy, do you have an idea for when we get to Marshfield,” prompted Emmy. “All I know is that we have to get them to release this poor man,” said Jimmy. The four continued on their journey.
When the Impala pulled into Marshfield, the city looked deserted. “Don’t suppose this is all because of the snow storm… or because of the holidays…” Sam shrugged. “Jimmy, it is probably best for you to stay out in the car,” Dean suggested. “But the authorities won’t believe anyone else… they are certain that they have me,” said Jimmy. Sam then said, “I have a plan.”
Dean and Sam grabbed a couple of suit coats from the trunk. “The FBI routine again… really?” Dean asked, “That is the plan? Won’t they find it fishy when they see two James Sterns?” “That is a situation we have to avoid… well, for now…” Sam replied. “What about Jimmy? He is set to turn himself in.” Dean pressed. “I think I can convince him we need to take the time to find out who this other guy is… for all we know, this could be the horseman…” Dean trailed off, his eyes meeting Jimmy’s as the man watched from inside the car.
“Jimmy, are you okay with going along with Sam and Dean,” asked Emmy. “Yes… I can see that this is for the best right now…” replied Jimmy. Dean strutted inside the police station, showing the fake FBI credentials. “My partner will be in soon… we would like to speak to Mr. Stern.” The police officer nodded, “yes, we were expecting you… you have a rough drive getting over here? That was one hell of a blizzard,” the officer trailed off as he led Dean down a corridor to the holding cell.
Sam instructed Jimmy to stay inside one of the men’s room stalls until the time was right. Inside the holding cell, Dean asked the man to identify himself. “They think I am this James Stern fellow, but I am just a banker from Kenosha… Ken Daly is the name… I have no family left, but I like to travel up here every year at Christmas still the same… it is where I spent time as a boy…”
Dean sympathized with the man. To be someone no one notices, without any connections to anyone… it was a fate he feared would become his own. Sam arrived at the holding cell and took Dean aside. “What do you think?” he asked. Dean replied, “I think he is just a poor sap who happens to look like Stern… says his name is Ken Daly… a banker from Kenosha…”
Sam took out his laptop and did a quick search. “Which bank do you work for?” Sam asked. "First Federal," replied Daly. "You are a mortgage lender there I see," said Sam. “Yes, that’s right…” said the man. “The picture on the Web site must’ve been taken a few years back, but it looks like you…” Sam replied.
Sam and Dean left the holding cell to discuss their next course of action. “What do we do about Jimmy?” Dean questioned, “He is ready to turn himself in.” “We are still supposed to let him decide, Dean,” Sam replied. “I will go have a word with him.”
Sam walked into the men’s room and checked the bottoms of the stalls. No one else was there. “Jimmy?” Sam whispered. “Yes, I’m here,” replied Jimmy. “Jimmy, this man appears to be a banker from Kenosha… you were right… just someone who was wrongly accused… are you sure you still want to turn yourself in?” inquired Sam. “Yes, I think that is best,” replied Jimmy.
Jimmy walked out of the stall and Sam walked him over to one of the officers on duty. “You have the wrong man in custody… this is the real James Stern.” “Are you sure?” retorted the officer defiantly, “the guy on the news footage looked a lot older than this guy.” Jimmy had looked remarkably younger than he had only yesterday, Sam thought, but maybe it was just the child-like innocence that surfaced in the man.
Jimmy took out his wallet and showed his ID, Social Security card and several bank cards to the officer. “Well, that all looks to be irrefutable evidence,” the officer shrugged. Ken Daly was allowed to leave, but as he did, the man began clutching his chest and fell to the floor, his body already cold as if he had been dead for hours.
“Call a paramedic,” an officer instructed. “Death just seems to follow you around Mr. Stern,” his eyes darted to Jimmy.
Death did seem to be following, or at least leading Jimmy Stern. But where was Death? Dean walked up to Sam, “Okay, so now what do we do? Stay here and wait… we don’t even know who we are looking for…” Just then, an officer bearing an incredible resemblance to a younger Jimmy Stern walked up, “Feds huh? I know who you two really are…”
It was Death.
“It must drive you insane to have to rely on this old fool to come up with a plan to defeat me,” the pale young man said. “You remember how those men in that town just collapsed as the life left them… you haven’t seen anything yet…”
Hearing screams, Sam and Dean spun around to see one of the officers on duty burst into flames, and then another. “Spontaneous combustion… an oldie but a goodie,” smiled death. “Oh, don’t worry… neither of you need fear me… I only take those who have served their purpose, and neither of you have yet…”
“Okay, I get it… you are serving Lucifer and he has told you he needs Sam, but I’m the guy who is supposed to bring all this to a crashing halt,” Dean snapped.
“That is unlikely Dean… your purpose is to get Sam to fulfill his,” a weak smile formed on Death’s lips. Dean felt his ire boil inside him as Sam shot him a look. “What about Jimmy?” asked Sam.
“That fool actually thinks he has found purpose in his life… he thinks that he saved a great many people, but what he really did was to bring Death to them. A well supplies drinking water to a village, then contaminates them with arsenic. Schooling for some girls from the Middle East… too bad their plane plummeted into the Atlantic. Purpose? He had no purpose. Only I had that purpose.”
Death pulled a new suit of clothes from a locker. “You boys are free to take that imbecile with you. He must be good for a laugh.” Death chuckled, wrinkles forming on his face as he began to look more and more like Stern did only yesterday.
Death headed out the door. Dean followed him. “I don’t know what you intend to do… I’m Death… there is no stopping me…” Sam rushed back to the holding cell to find a much younger Jimmy.
“I know what I need to do,” Jimmy said. “Can you help me Sam?” Tears formed in Sam’s eyes as he nodded.
Death climbed into a car resembling an old hearse, black paint chipping away and fading. Dean quickly slid behind the wheel of the Impala. “What now?” Emmy inquired. “That is Death… he is about to ravage the land.” “I must go to Jimmy,” Emmy vanished. Just then, Death’s car went up in flames.
Inside the jail cell, Sam held a pillow in his hands, weeping softly. “You did the right thing Sam,” Emmy said, sitting down next to Jimmy’s crumpled body. “We don’t normally do this sort of thing,” Emmy whispered into Jimmy’s ear, “but there are special cases… when someone changes so much, giving so much of themselves… that is the real miracle of birth…”
Emmy instructed Sam to shield his eyes and ears as the small cell filled with intense white light and tremendous shrills.
“I understand you wish to perform one more generous act on earth, and I think that is truly wonderful,” Emmy said, and then she too vanished. Only Sam was left in the cell. He walked out to the parking lot where Dean was waiting for him.
“What just happened?” Dean asked, “Where is Emmy and Jimmy?” “They’re gone,” Sam replied. “Gone?” Dean inquired. “Dean, let’s head back.”
It was a bright winter night, the stars reflecting their light on the freshly fallen snow. The two were quiet on their drive back. They pulled into Bobby’s driveway, surprised to see Christmas lights lit on the outside of the house. Dean and Sam looked at each other, “Cas,” they said simultaneously.
The boys walked in to find Bobby in better spirits than they had seen him in for years. “Merry Christmas boys,” Bobby handed them each a bottle of beer. “Oh, I almost forgot… there are gifts for you under the tree…” “Okay Bobby,” Sam said as he walked toward the tree. “No… let me get them…” Bobby got up out of his chair and walked over to the tree. Tears began to fill Dean’s eyes, “Bobby, I… I…” Dean walked over to hug him.
“Okay, okay… no need to get all menopausal now,” grumbled Bobby. “Look, would you like for me to put on Lifetime for you?”
Sam kneeled down by the tree, “Bobby, what are these packages?” “Bobby looked over at Sam, “oh, those are from Jimmy… I guess he must’ve took a liking to you two… lord only knows why,” Bobby chuckled gruffly. Sam unwrapped the gift addressed to him. Stunned, he held up a large bundle of one hundred dollar bills. Dean gaped at the sight, and quickly unwrapped the package addressed to him. The same thing.
“You know boys, I bet Jimmy would have wanted you to share some of that to help a man get back on his feet… maybe even help him so that he can join you in the good fight again…” Bobby said. “Of course… of course,” said Sam, “There must be at least $50,000 here…”
Dean smiled, spreading out the pile of cash in front of him, “a genuine Christmas miracle!”
Outside, the sound of church bells filled the early morning. Cas looked up at the sky, “Welcome to our family Jimmy.”
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