Work Text
Jingle, jingle, jingle.
John tried not to glare at the ugly little bell that hung from the Impala's review mirror. It was a cheap plastic bell with a grainy picture of Santa on its front.
Every time John turned into a corner it would whip around and hit the windshield. Jingle, jingle, jingle. He wanted nothing more than to rip it off and toss it out the window. The smile on little Dean's face stopped him every time. He looked so happy when he put the damned thing there. He told John that ‘now the 'Pala is ready for Christmas’.