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None of this was in the detailed plans they'd made five weeks ago. Jody had insisted they all were required to report in for a real family thanksgiving dinner. Not just the Winchester clan, but their entire extended network of friends and found family. Nobody objected, of course. It was a universally beloved idea. They all had a hell of a lot to be thankful for.
Nobody honestly could’ve predicted that gathering several dozen severely traumatized folks to break bread (and half a dozen pies) would’ve led to some general airing of grievances. That was supposed to be an entirely different holiday, after all. But in a world where so many holidays seemed to all tie directly back to Chuck and his own self-aggrandizing story, it naturally followed that while the idea of spending a holiday with the whole family like this was universally beloved and a tradition they absolutely wanted to continue as often as possible, they just didn’t think that the specific holiday of Christmas was necessarily the right way to go about that anymore.
“Well,” Garth said as they sat around the massive makeshift table assembled in Jody’s backyard after a long and leisurely meal. “If you still want a reason for the season that’s got nothing to do with Chuck, you can always make it about something else.”
Dean sat up in his chair so fast he nearly knocked over Cas’s beer on the edge of the table beside him. He looked over at Cas as he scrambled to catch his drink, and just stared at him for a second.
“You said it yourself, Cas.”
“I’ve said a lot of things, Dean.” Cas sat back in his chair, slightly aggrieved and this time holding on to his drink since Dean seemed to be gripped by one of this wild notions. “You’ll have to be more specific.”
Dean snorted out a laugh and shook his head as he sat back with his own beer cradled in his hands. His momentary wave of realization had congealed into a proper idea, though. He grinned around at the expectant faces of his friends before finally turning back to Cas.
“We’re making it up as we go, right?”
It took Cas a second to remember the exact moment Dean was talking about, but the instant he did, he understood what Dean was getting at. Sticking it to Chuck all over again.
“We can make up our own holiday.”
Dean nodded sincerely and took a sip of his drink. “Screw all Chuck's holly jolly crap. We need a toes in the sand kind of holiday.”
After a moment of silence, Garth asked, “So are we talking about a Caribbean cruise or is this strictly a sandbox event?”
Dean shrugged. “No sand out in the middle of the ocean. I was thinking more Cancun, less cruising. Maybe one of those all inclusive resort type deals, where we don’t gotta worry about anything for a week.”
“And you’re footin’ the bill, right?” Donna asked, waving a hand around the table at the crowd of interested onlookers all thinking this was just a slightly tipsy pipe dream and not the foundations of a real plan. “Those places don’t come cheap, especially during the winter break season.”
Charlie waved a dismissive hand. “Financing it isn’t an issue. If everyone’s in, we will make it happen.”
“Well, in that case,” Claire said, smirking at Kaia, “count us in for beachmas.”
Hours later when they finally took their leave from Jody’s house, arms full of leftovers, their plans had completely come together. Dean proclaimed effusive thanks to each and every person present, and then spent half the drive back to the bunker lovingly detailing all the amenities at the resort Charlie had booked them all into. After a few hours, Sam had grumpily complained from the back seat, half asleep and truly wishing he was entirely asleep.
“Don’t forget this still involves air travel, Dean.”
Dean glanced nervously at Cas beside him on the front seat. Cas simply stared calmly out the front window, lulled into a contented state by a full belly and the sound of Dean’s happy excitement pattering on as he drove. Dean swallowed hard. That had been the one part of this whole harebrained trip that he’d really been trying not to think too much about. Cas understood, though. He reached over and patted Dean’s knee reassuringly.
“I will be right there with you, and nothing bad will happen on the airplane, Dean.”
“Yeah,” Dean said weakly, gripping the steering wheel just a bit harder as Sam finally, blessedly had enough silence in the car to doze off.
Over the next few weeks, they’d fallen back into their usual patterns. There were a few odd hunts that kept them occupied, but while they were home in the bunker, Dean had been getting visibly more excited about their impending trip. He brought out his best tamale recipe— the one that had even impressed the old Death— and it had equally impressed even Sam. And that wasn’t the only Mexican delicacy that Dean had tried to perfect in the kitchen. By the time the day of their trip neared, Sam had actually suggested they might all be let down by the food at the resort after Dean had spoiled them so thoroughly.
Three days before Beachmas was set to begin— because of course Dean had adopted Claire’s name for their new holiday— Dean got a call from Krissy Chambers. He hadn’t heard from her in years, and had honestly assumed she and her little gang of hunters had gotten themselves out of the game. When he saw her name on his phone, he did a double take before answering.
“Krissy, hey, long time no see,” he said, as Sam made a startled face when he realized who Dean was talking to.
“Dean, it’s actually really good to hear your voice,” she said, sounding relieved.
Her tone was so rough that Dean was immediately on alert. He instantly went from being ready to casually tease her, or even invite her and her gang to the Beachmas Party, to being ready to draw the nearest weapon and rush to her aid. Unfortunately, that was actually what she needed from him.
“So you don’t call, don’t write, and then after what… six or seven years out of the blue you finally remember we exist?” Dean asked, putting her on speaker for Sam and Cas. “Shit must really be going down. What do you need?”
Krissy snorted. “Yeah, well, it’s not like you kept in touch much, either. I hear you’ve been a little busy taking down God and all, though, so I guess I can give you a pass.”
Dean laughed out loud. “Thanks for that.”
“No, thank you,” Krissy replied earnestly. “Though if you’d just let it all stay gone, I wouldn’t be here to accidentally trip all over whatever Christmas plans you may have had.”
“We don’t do Christmas anymore,” Cas said. “We celebrate Beachmas now.”
Krissy was silent for a moment, either trying to parse out what that meant, or else trying to figure out who exactly had said that. Dean saved her from having to do either.
“Yeah, that’s Cas. I guess you’re about to meet him, if you need our help with something. But he’s right. We gave up all Chuck’s old holidays and we’re inventing our own.”
Dean’s explanation only seemed to give Krissy more questions, which wasn’t ideal considering they still hadn’t learned why she’d called in the first place.
“Oooohkay? That sounds great and all, but I could still use a hand with a couple rogue ghouls out here.”
Dean glanced at Cas, and then at Sam.
“Where exactly is here?”
“About thirty miles north of Missoula, Montana. I can send you the exact coordinates.”
“Hey, Krissy,” Sam finally said. “It’s Sam. Are you still hunting with your friends, or are you on your own now?”
“Hi, Sam, and yes, Aidan and Josephine are still hunting with me most of the time, but Aidan’s been laid up with a broken foot after our last hunt, and Josephine’s handling a haunting down in Taos and can’t make it up here for another few days. I thought I could handle a measly little ghoul stirring up trouble, but three people have gone missing since I got here, and I’m pretty sure it’s more than one ghoul doing the snatching.”
Dean sighed, rubbing his face. “Well at least it’s not vetala this time.”
Krissy snorted. “Yeah, I wouldn’t have come alone if I’d thought it was.”
“Alrighty then,” Dean said, making the executive decision to abandon their dinner and leave Sam to do the dishes. “Cas and I will be out there by sunup. Text me where you want to meet up, and we’ll see you there.”
“Really? Just like that?” Krissy asked, as Sam expressed a minor disappointment looking around the kitchen at their taco bar mess.
“Just like that,” Dean replied. “Hang tight, and try to stay off the ghoul radar for the night.”
“Will do. And thank you.”
Dean hung up, put his phone in his pocket, and then clapped his hands down on the table as he stood up.
“Come on, Cas. We got packing to do.”
“Weren’t we supposed to be packing for Cancun?” he asked, but dutifully followed Dean to their room.
“It’s just a couple of ghouls. We’ll be back in plenty of time to catch our flight,” Dean replied, trying not to visibly shudder at the mention of their impending air travel. He really had been doing better about it. Having a month to psych himself up for it had actually helped.
Sam snorted behind them in the kitchen. “You better be back in time,” he grumbled.
Of course they weren’t back in time. Which brings us back to where this story began.
“If you hadn’t given Krissy our hotel room in Cancun, there’s a chance we still could’ve made it,” Cas told him as the two of them trudged back through the forest after slaughtering a ghoul family of five, slightly disheveled and smelling strongly of the bonfire they'd built to dispose of the ghouls.
Dean grumbled a little at that and hefted his gear bag over his shoulder, but he could always get Charlie to book them another room. They’d already had this argument when Dean had sent Krissy south to collect Aidan and Josephine on her way to Mexico the day before. Now that they were alone, and a light snow had begun to fall, Dean stopped and turned to Cas.
“We handled the hunt fine without her,” Dean said. “Admit it, she was too banged up to hike out here with us,” he added, waving a hand around the dense forest and rocky terrain. “She wasn’t much better off than Aidan with his busted foot.”
Cas sighed, finally relenting. “And our family trip was the perfect time to bring her back into the family.”
Dean draped an arm over Cas’s shoulder and laughed as they continued their march back to civilization.
“No time like the holidays, right?”
“Especially the holidays we just invented,” Cas replied.
By the time they made it back to where they’d left the car, it was snowing harder. Dean turned on the radio to try and catch a local weather report. Snow had blanketed the entire region, and wasn’t expected to let up for days. Roads were precarious, and some had even closed, and the weather man advised people to stay home at least until the worst of the storm had passed. Dean frowned at the radio, calculating the odds that they’d be able to make it back to Kansas ahead of the blizzard. It hadn’t looked too hopeful. He turned to Cas, who to Dean’s surprise looked perfectly content despite the potentially catastrophic news.
“So maybe we’re not gonna make our flight,” he said, and then laughed nervously.
Cas turned to him with a raised eyebrow. “You weren’t looking forward to getting on an airplane anyway.”
“Not particularly, no,” Dean said, frowning both at the fact that Cas seemed so calm about this potential vacation ruining travesty, but also at the fact that he may have a reprieve from getting on a plane. There was also a matter of probably not getting to lounge on a beach in Cancun with Cas at his side and a fancy drink in a coconut in his hand. With that specific lament front and center in his mind, he made a sincere admission. “But I was looking forward to everything else. Flying for that would’ve been worth it.”
Cas shrugged. “Charlie can probably get us on another flight in a few days. We can still get there in time to spend several days with everyone else.”
When Dean’s mood didn’t visibly improve, Cas leaned in close, his shoulder bumping Dean’s. “We could extend our stay past when the rest of the family has left and enjoy a few days on the beach by ourselves.”
Dean blinked at him, and Cas just stayed exactly where he was, looking up at him with knowing eyes. Dean gave him a kiss, surprising Cas, and then laughed as he pulled out his keys and started the car.
“Okay then. You get Charlie on the phone and explain what happened. Get her on the job of finding us another flight as soon as possible.” As he pulled out onto the road, he added, “Whatever you do, don’t call Sam first. He’s just gonna bitch about us bailing on flying.”
Cas nodded, understanding. “He can’t bitch if we already have new tickets.”
Dean shrugged, turning off the highway toward the one place nearby he knew he could hunker down for a couple days. They hadn’t been out to Rufus’s old cabin in a while, but it would shelter them well enough from the oncoming storm.
“He probably will anyway, but at least by the time we get down there, he’ll have had a few days in paradise to get over it.”
Cas was off the phone with Charlie by the time Dean pulled up to the little market in Whitefish, just a few miles from the cabin. They stocked up on food, and Dean even picked up a bottle of ready to drink margaritas. When Cas side-eyed him, and the obnoxiously pink bottle, Dean just shrugged.
“If we can’t drink one out of a coconut on the beach tomorrow, we’re gonna do the next best thing.”
As they were paying, Dean noticed a display of winter road supplies by the door, including large bags of sand to be used as grit to spread on ice. He dashed over and grabbed one, tossing it down on the counter with a thud. A small amount of sand escaped the bag and left a mess on the counter. The cashier, wearing a festive santa hat with a flashing holly garland pinned to it, made a pointedly un-festive face at him. Dean just grinned back as the guy scanned the bag and added it to their total.
“Merry beachmas,” Dean told the bewildered clerk as they carried their purchases out into the cold.
Half an hour later, holed up at the cabin, Dean had a roaring fire going as Cas finally came out of the bathroom having showered and changed into clothes that weren’t stained with ghoul goo and mud. On the floor between the sofa and the fireplace, Dean had dumped the entire fifty pound bag of sand into a little makeshift beach. Cas just stared at him for a second like Dean had lost his mind. Dean just grinned back like he’d had the best idea ever.
“I thought the sand was to gain traction over icy roads,” Cas said, as he slowly made his way toward their indoor beach, stopping to pull off his socks before stepping onto the sand.
Dean shrugged and handed Cas a margarita, poured into a plastic cup full of freshly fallen snow to chill it. It was more like a margarita-flavored slushie than anything they probably served at the resort, but it was good enough for their wintry celebration.
“It probably will be in a couple days, but for now it’s Winchester Beach.”
Cas just stood there looking down at his less-than-tropically prepared beverage as Dean flopped down on the sofa. Dean patted the seat beside him, and Cas finally stepped onto the sand, enjoying the feeling of his feet sinking down in it more than he’d expected to. He blinked at Dean.
“I can see why you enjoy walking on the beach now,” Cas said as he sat down and curled his toes down into the warm sand.
Dean nodded. “Yeah, and it’s even better when it’s been baking under the hot sun for a few hours.”
Cas lifted his foot and frowned down at all the sand granules that clung to his skin. He wiggled his toes and watched sand rain down onto the floor. “It’s very messy, though.”
Dean shrugged, taking a sip of his drink and stretching his legs out toward the fire. “Yeah, it kinda gets in everything. It’s still not as bad as glitter. Or pine needles.”
“So you don’t mind not having a traditional Christmas tree? All the holiday rituals of your childhood?”
Dean sighed, pulling Cas in close and settling in for a long few days in their own private paradise.
“What I miss is being with everyone we care about. But we’ll be there in a few days. Until then, I get to be here, with you.” After a moment’s thought, he added, “Plus my childhood kinda sucked anyway.”
Cas snorted out a laugh and leaned back into Dean.
“I’m glad to be here with you now,” he said. “Though I think next beachmas, we need to avoid going off on hunts where there’s a chance we’ll get snowed in and miss our flight.”
Dean grinned at him. “So you’re already planning on celebrating again next year?”
“That is how holidays work, right?” Cas asked.
“Yeah, that’s how they work,” Dean replied with a sigh. “Merry beachmas, Cas.”