Hey, Cas. It's Sam. If you're not busy, I need to ask you for a favor.

Castiel was intrigued. Dean was almost always the one that prayed to him. The few times Sam had prayed, it had been because Dean was injured and unconsciousness.

This prayer didn't sound particularly urgent, but Castiel decided to heed the call anyway. With the Winchester brothers' knack for finding trouble, what was a small problem now might soon become more dangerous.

He landed outside a nondescript motel on the outskirts of Omaha. Sam appeared to still be in the process of checking-in since he was fiddling with something in the Impala's trunk and the door to the motel room was propped open.

The brothers were usually out of the car and into their rooms in a matter of moments so Castiel was a little baffled by the giant green and red striped box sitting on a furniture dolly next to the car. He couldn't think of any creature needing more gear than the Winchesters usually carried.

He stepped closer and peered into the box.

Empty. How odd.

Sam straightened up from the trunk. "Hey, Cas," he said cheerfully.

"Hello, Sam." He cocked his head to one side and peered into the room. "Where is Dean?"

"Back at the bunker. I told him I could handle this one on my own."

"And now you need my assistance."

Both Winchesters had an infuriating tendency to try to take on the world all by themselves, which had landed them in trouble countless times. But at least Sam had the good sense to realize when he was over his head and had called for aid.

Sam smiled sheepishly. "I didn't think you'd come. I'm sure you have plenty of other obligations."

"Not at the moment," Castiel said. "I can stay for as long as you need me."

Sam's smile widened into something almost maniacal. "Good, good. Hey, angels don't need to breathe, right?"

"No, my grace is sufficient to keep this vessel alive." Castiel frowned. "You know this, Sam."

"Just making sure," Sam said. He pointed to the box. "Get in."

"Why?"

"Because."

Castiel waited patiently for the rest of the explanation, but Sam just looked at him expectantly.

"That does not answer my question, Sam."

"Just for a few hours," Sam said. "I'll make sure you're the first thing he opens."

Castiel reached out with his grace. He could detect no evil intent in Sam and the box itself seemed totally harmless. No sigils, no spells, no hexes. Nothing to harm him or restrain him if he stepped inside. But it still had to be a trap of some kind.

"Who is this 'he' you are referring to?" Castiel asked warily.

"Dean, of course," Sam said. "You know what he's like. Always insisting he doesn't need anything and he's just fine with what he's got. But I want him to really be happy this year. And I think nothing would make him happier than seeing you."

"I don't think Dean would enjoy seeing me in a box."

"You'd be surprised," Sam said with a smirk. "So, are you willing to help me out?"

"With what?"

"Being in the box."

"Very well," Castiel said. "If you truly think this will make Dean happy."

"Awesome," Sam said delightedly. "So just settle yourself down in the tissue paper and get comfortable. It's just a three hour drive back to the bunker and I'll try to be careful so you don't rattle around too much."

"Three hours? With my grace, I could have us there-"

"No," Sam said. "You have to be in the box now, so Dean doesn't see you until it's time."

Castiel sighed unhappily and climbed into the box, kicking the crinkly paper aside so he could sit down.

Sam smiled down at him. "I'm going to put the lid on now, okay? Thanks again, Cas. You're a lifesaver."

It was for Dean, Castiel reminded himself as Sam closed up the box. He could endure three hours of tedium for Dean.

—

It was a little after 4 p.m. Christmas Day and Dean was rapidly cycling between irritation and concern. Sam had called him five hours ago to let him know that he was done with the case and heading back to the bunker.

Even though it was just going to be the two of them this year, Dean had actually put together a nice Christmas dinner. Ham, yams with marshmallows, mashed potatoes and gravy, and even some disgusting vegetables.

And what was the point if Sam didn't show up? Was he even going to show up?

Dean downed another beer and continued pacing the kitchen.

Ten minutes later, Sam texted him that he was parked outside the bunker.

Dean went to greet him at the door. "Where the hell have you been? You get lost on your way home?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "I had to pick something up on the way back."

"Pie?" Dean asked hopefully.

"Even better. Come on. Help me get it out of the car."

Dean's heart sank when he saw the giant box. "Sam, no. We agreed not to spend a shit ton on each other this year."

He started to feel a little guilty for buying Sam a small gift. But he shouldn't feel bad, he reminded himself. He had just followed the rules of their agreement and fucking Sam had gone overboard.

"Don't worry, Dean. I didn't spend a lot," Sam said cheerfully. "In fact, I didn't spend anything at all."

"So, what, you found someone just giving away fucking appliances? It's probably fucking cursed, Sam."

"Not an appliance," Sam said. "And not cursed. But I'm sure you'll want to do an examination anyway."

"Damn straight," Dean said, puffing out his chest proudly.

Sam snorted. "Just help me lift this thing."

Dean grasped the side of the box Sam indicated and lifted. "Jesus Christ, Sam. What the hell's in this thing? It's fucking heavy."

"You'll see in a minute," Sam grunted.

Somehow, the two of them managed to wrestle the box through the doorway and then set it down to take a breather.

"Maybe you should open it now," Sam suggested. "No sense dragging it all the way over to the tree."

"Right," Dean said. "If it's cursed, we can chuck it right back out the door." He clawed off the wrapping paper and lifted the lid.

Castiel peered up at him from inside the box, a large red bow atop his head and silvery ribbon draped over his shoulders. Dean wasn't the type to call anything cute, but holy fuck was that cute.

"Hello, Dean," Castiel said.

"I, uh, hiya, Cas." He cleared his throat. "What, uh, what are you doing in the box?"

"He's your present," Sam said proudly. "Just what you've always wanted. Your very own angel."

"That doesn't make any sense," Dean muttered. "Cas has been with us for years. So, isn't he something I already have?"

"Is he yours?" Sam said challengingly. "Is he really?"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Sam pointed above the doorway.

Dean groaned. "Really, Sam? Mistletoe?"

Sam crossed his arms over his chest. "He's your angel, right? So you should have no problem proving it."

"That's not what I meant and you know it!"

"I don't understand," Castiel said. He tilted his head to the side and the bow slowly slid off.

Dean sighed. "Step on out of the box, buddy. Sam wants to see us kiss because he's a weirdo."

To Dean's great surprise, Castiel's eyes immediately lit up. He stood, grabbed a handful of Dean's collar and pulled him into a searing kiss.

"Holy fuck," Dean whispered when they finally parted. "We so have to do that again."

"Hallelujah," Sam said. "Fucking finally. Now I don't have to put up with the two of you moping and pining all the damn time."

"I don't mope," Castiel insisted.

"And I don't pine," Dean said firmly.

"Uh-huh, whatever you say." Sam grinned broadly. "You two continue catching up while I set the table."

Castiel licked his lips. "That would be agreeable. Thank you, Sam."

"No, thank you. This is the best Christmas I've ever had."

Dean wasn't about to argue with him, not when Cas was reeling him in for another kiss.