DOYA: Her little present.

DOYA: Her little present.

A/N: Oya loves Christmas, but not especially for the reasons we think of, and not really the way people usually celebrate it.

Xxxxx

MOL BUNKER, Friday afternoon, at 4 pm. A couple days before Christmas

Oya was quietly reading in the war room. The room temperature was warm enough for her to stay in a t-shirt and a pair of boxers, but she was wearing an ugly sweater and a pair of flannel pants. When the petite hunter was reading, she had both legs on the seat and her arms wrapped around them. Her hair was tied on a messy bun and she was busy looking through the pages. Unlike the History books she usually read, today the ebony hunter was focused on a novel. She grabbed it at a gas station -yes, a gas station- and ever since hadn't dropped it. She loved detective stories, especially when they dabbed into the NOIR Genre and this book, unlike most gas station books, was actually good.

It was so good that she didn't notice that Dean had been staring at her silently. He was sitting on the chair nearby, an actual hunter's book they accidentally found during one of their last hunts. It read like a diary held by one seasoned hunter who encountered plenty of creatures, all weirder than the other, especially those from East Europe. As he was devouring the book -which was quite something for someone who'd rather have Sam do the reading-, he noticed Oya was awfully quiet and started to look at her. He loved it when she was focused because that little crease on her forehead was very cute. Her eyes were wide open as she didn't want to miss a single word on her book and she was twirling her right foot -it always was the right one-. He watched as she sighed in relief, moaned out of frustration, or rolled her eyes as she read lines of the book she didn't like. She was cute.

While the older Winchester's brother was staring at Oya, his mind was wandering elsewhere. Soon it would be Christmas, a day none of the team Free Will actually liked. It was way too painful for the brothers -didn't mean anything to the angel- and Oya had mixed feelings about the holiday. Yes, just like the brothers, Christmas was bittersweet. It reminded her of moments she celebrated with her family, of the laughter they shared, the amazing presents unboxing but more importantly, the delicious food her mother would cook. It felt good, it felt homely. Those memories were painful because they reminded Oya of what she lost. They reminded her of their absence and their gruesome deaths. Always, at some point, just like the Winchester brothers, anger would overwhelm her and would break her heart and she would be tempted to push those memories away. She would hate the Christmas songs, and the commercials on TV about that damn Christmas Turkey, unboxing day, and all those exaggerated happy faces on tv.

She hated the commercials, Dean could tell by the way she stiffened whenever one accidentally appeared on TV. She hated the Christmas songs and refused to sing them. He recalled a day when she threw some snow in the face of a choir that was singing in town. She resented the obliviousness of regular humans hunters like her were to protect. At least, during moments like these. Envy took over, the desire to have her family back and be able to spend the holidays with them was overwhelming but she could do nothing about it. Yet, unlike the Winchesters, Oya was able to enjoy those memories of her family. She felt grateful and privileged to have them because at least that meant their memories would still be alive thanks to her. They wouldn't be forgotten, they would still live with her. Memories were happy and a reminder to her that she was able to be happy again, at least she had been able to. Those memories were soft and sweet and warm, a lovely Proust madeleine she held onto. So she remembered, and she enjoyed those moments spent laughing and with the people she loved.

Oya didn't really celebrate Christmas. The bunker wasn't decorated. The bunker was still the very same old same old looking place. What she kept, however, was the gift-giving tradition. She made it a point 5 years ago, to always make sure that Team Free Will, received something. Dean always got new weapons, Sam once got a Vince Vincent best of the album, the one and only best of he made when he was alive. Dean, at first, was surprised by her, but he enjoyed the not-so-subtle way she was excited over getting them presents. He enjoyed that she made it practical for him -always a new but exotic piece of weaponry, and sometimes she added ugly sweaters- and something meaningful for everyone -she always made collages of the pictures and selfies she took with them-. It was sweet, really and although he wasn't looking forward to Christmas, he wasn't dreading the day as much as he did before. He didn't need to get drunk anymore or lost in his hunt to forget about his surroundings. Oya was his Home. Oya was his Christmas.

The fact she stayed with him was really, all that he needed. Yet, Dean still wanted to see the smile on her face when she opens her presents. This year, he decided to get her Baby Yoda. It wasn't a weapon, it wasn't useful, but it was something she'd been whining about almost every day since the commercial hit TV. She loved the show and while he was a nerd and did have a secret love for Dark Vader, He still wanted to give her something she would like, something she loved, and something that would make her smile. Dean loved when Oya smiled, and he loved it even more when she was laughing. He had already bought the present and did his best to hide it in the bunker's armory. Look what she was making him do, buy a Christmas present ahead of time so he was sure it was home. Hide it from her so she would be surprised when he gives it to her. Look at him looking forward to Christmas, but not for the reasons people mostly love the holiday for, not for the feast, not for the lights, not for the family gathering, but just because he would spend it with her, with a little gift that just meant he thought of her, with her infectious smile.. with her warm presence... with her...

-TBC-