Without Packages, Boxes, or Bags

Note: Originally posted to my tumblr: Title is from How the Grinch Stole Christmas. Started as crack fic, turned into this monstrosity of candy cane scented crazy.

Castiel knew mind reading isn't always like reading a book, sometimes it was more like completely unintentional eavesdropping. If a thought, or wish, or desire was strong enough it could travel from mind to mind like a wave. And when, four days before Christmas, the Winchesters began having visions of sugar plums, Cas saw every detail. The thoughts so strong and powerful he could see them in the room.

The three of them were staying in a little motel in middle of nowhere Wisconsin. Cas was staring blankly at the white light of the laptop screen. Dean said he could only stay if he did something useful, and didn't watch them all night like a creeper. That's when the thoughts started rolling in. First the smell of pine and freshly baked gingerbread cookies. A red and green paper garland strung over the door, a huge fully decorated tree with popcorn and cranberries and tinsel, gingerbread houses, icicle lights, sugar cookies shaped like trees and stars, wrapped presents, and holiday movies on the fuzzy tv.

Each wish flickered in and out of the room. Castiel could see each childhood wish like a ghost image. The boys probably wouldn't even remember their dreams in the morning. But Cas had an idea.

He fired up the laptop like Sam had taught him to do during their 'If you're going to be a hunter now, you have to learn things.' tutorial. Then he googled and googled til his googler was sore. He researched trees, and sleigh rides, and tinsel, and Santa Claus. He understood their meanings but not why they brought happiness to humanity. He stayed there all night until the early morning as the sun came creeping in. Dean rose first with the loud snap of popping joints. He gave a gruff nod to Cas as he made his way to the bathroom, grateful he didn't wake up with a face full of angel staring him.

Sam and Dean were going out to do some work on a hunt and all the angel of the lord talk Cas could muster would not convince them to stop mothering him. As if intentionally cutting himself off from heaven was the worst thing that ever happened to him. It should have been the other way around, angel worrying about the humans. Especially Winchesters, never knew what kind of trouble they would get into. Plus they couldn't just say the word and make him stay, he was not a dog after all.

So he let them fret in their own ways, with Sam giving him that patented 'I am concerned' look and Dean making sure he feels useful, but doesn't actually do anything that might be considered dangerous. And he can only stand it for the minute it takes them to bundle up against the weather and then nearly literally pushes them out the door telling them they should hurry with their research and he'll be here when they return.

The brothers were just getting started with a long round of research, finding out all they could about something called a Yuki-onna. Some Japanese snow demoness that lured people from their houses and let them die of exposure. She had killed four people before Sam caught the pattern. He had thought it was Jokul Frosti at first. Dean thought that was ridiculous and that Jack Frost wasn't real. Sam reminded him that all they did was deal with things that weren't supposed to be real.

They spent a lot of time looking things up, there weren't many books on Japanese folklore in the small-town library. One sat at the lone ancient hulk of a computer in the corner while the other browsed the stacks. They clicked, and read, and researched till their eyes were tired and heads sore. They gave it up as a near useless endeavor and headed back to the car with the idea of calling Garth later. As much as they didn't want to.

Castiel's plan started off slow, Christmas music in the impala. As Dean turned the key in the ignition, loud holiday music began to play. That wasn't so strange, this time of year almost every station played at least a few songs. What was weird, is that every preset was tuned to the same station advertised as 'Your home for the holidays!' with blaring trumpets and songs about Santa.

Dean scowled and hit the play button on the tape deck, instead of the soothing sounds of ACDC, more Christmas music. If Sam hadn't been with him for nearly every second of the day, he would think he was playing a trick on him. He grumbled angrily and clicked off the radio. The rest of the ride was spent in blissful silence.

Back at base of operations in the motel, Castiel was putting together a gingerbread house. Or making a brave attempt while frowning at the directions. He was a warrior of God. He had smote evil with a flaming sword while garbed in holy vestments. He was not going to be bested by confectionery. After getting his fingers covered in the frosting that acted as mortar, he gave up and used mojo to fix it. Once the walls and roof were put up right, he dotted on the candy decorations. Gum drop roof tiles, and little chocolate candy paving stones, and red licorice lattices. He smiled to himself as he worked, he had already hung a construction paper garland in red and green, holly, and ivy.

Sam and Dean came stamping through the door, rubbing their hands together and shedding hats and scarves. Dean had a cheeseburger hanging out of his mouth. They either ignored the mistletoe hanging above the door to comment on the more blatant decorations, or missed it entirely. Dean nearly dropped his greasy fast food bag when he saw Cas delicately arranging Christmas cookies on a plate.

"Wha- what?" Dean said around the bite of food in his mouth. "What are you doing Cas?" he said after he swallowed.

Cas looked nervously from brother to brother. Sam had found the tiny gingerbread house sitting on the windowsill and was investigating the rest of the room with quiet amusement. Dean looked like he wanted to snatch up the plate, take it to a secret location, and devour the whole thing. And maybe lick it when he was done. Castiel tilted his head and answered with something that wasn't quite a lie, just a half truth.

"I wish to learn about the human holiday of Christmas. I believe it is customary to decorate for this holiday?" Cas gave a little smile, just the brief twitch of one cheek.

Dean had seen the mistletoe and he quickly and quietly tossed it in the garbage when no one was looking, then thumped down on his bed, Sam's eyebrows knitted together. Dean held one of the cookies in his hand. It was shaped like a star. Cas used his mojo to rehang the mistletoe.

"How do you, an angel, not know about Christmas? And where did you get these cookies, they safe?" Dean took a tentative bite, then another and another. Then he slowly reached out and took the whole tray. "Mmm these're good."

"Angels don't celebrate Christmas. Not the way humans do. It is...different." He watched Dean munching on the cookies and made a note to magic up some more. "What humans know as Christmas is really a pagan appropriation used to convert nonbelievers, not the annual celebration of the birth of Christ." he said matter of factly.

Dean ran a hand through his hair and Sam just raised his eyebrows. How to explain human Christmas rituals to an angel. The Winchesters were probably the worst people for this task, having never enjoyed the typical suburban apple pie holiday. And he was right. Most of the décor, rituals, and traditions of Christmas were pagan. Sam made a valiant effort to explain faith, and belief, and family togetherness and how they brought inner peace, and contentment. Most of those foreign concepts to all three in the room. He talked about presents and trees, and all the typcal holiday trappings. Cas listened intently. Would having their unspoken wishes answered bring the joy of the season to the brothers?

After finishing their dinner, Dean with more cheeseburgers and Sam with a salad topped with a handful of orange slices, they sat down on the ugly brown sofa in front of the fuzzy television. Castiel sat between them. Sam had thrown a blanket over their laps. The only channel that really came in on the ancient rabbit eared set was playing seasonal movies. A Christmas Story was playing, just like it did every year. This was one movie that Sam and Dean had both seen several times over the years. They sat on the edge of their cushions and took turns reciting lines. They both gave matching laughs whenever anyone said 'You'll shoot your eye out kid.'. They looked much younger. They looked almost happy.

When it was over, the boys talked about the case. The information they did and didn't find, whether they should call Garth to learn more, if a snow demon is like a regular demon. Both have an exorcism memorized, and Cas probably knows at least three or more. Castiel was only half listening, Its A Wonderful Lifehad started playing, and he had some thoughts about this portrayal of angels.

"I don't understand what bells have to do with wings. This is untrue. Angels are made with their wings intact." He huffs in what seems like genuine annoyance.

Dean and Sam stop their chatter and look at him. He is staring intently with his 'this is complicated' face, eyebrows drawn down, glimpse of top teeth over his bottom lip, head tilted to the side like a puppy. He's brought his legs up to sit crosslegged and has his hands on his ankles.

"You know this isn't real right? Its a movie Cas." Dean said covering a yawn. "Most people don't know that angels are real."

Sam shot a glance to the alarm clock on the nightstand between the two beds. It was just past midnight now. Both brothers had drooping eyes. And they were sure to have another long day of hunting with little result. Sam got up and pulled the blanket with him, taking it back to its home on his bed. Dean got up too, clapping Cas on the back.

"Okay Clarence, turn it down, time for good boys and girls to go to sleep." Cas willingly obliged, half smile turning up one corner of his mouth.

"I understand that reference."

Castiel watched movies all night. In them he saw many of the same things that he had seen the night before in the Winchester's dreams. And the dreams themselves had changed. They were more real, almost like memories. In Dean's dream, young boys were sitting together near the tree, a bear with a bow clutched in Sammy's tiny hands, Dean reading him a story. The book was very old and tattered with a red cover that bore the name Twas the Night Before Christmas. Deeper digging revealed that the book had belonged to Bobby Singer. Sam's dream of a dog frolicking in the snow was a memory. There was a snow man and wife wearing clothes that were clearly part of Sam's wardrobe. In the distance someone was calling his name and he woke with a start.

He blinked hard to get the sleep out of his eyes, took a look at the clock, and woke Dean who demanded real breakfast and not that cardboard soy crap that Sam called breakfast. They took turns showering and doing other grooming activities that were not necessary for angels. Eventually they were ready to go and pulled Cas away from a repeat viewing of Rudolph. He had really missed television. Television was good. Before he left the room he replaced the cookies Dean had eaten the day before.

The angel sat in the corner of the booth looking out the window. He still had no motivation to eat so he sat by as Dean stuffed his face with what seemed like a whole pig. Sam quickly finished oatmeal with fruit on top, then stepped out and called Garth. When he stepped in he carefully composed his face before speaking.

"Okay, good news and bad news. Bad news is, its not like a regular demon. We can't exorcize it." He slid back into the booth, placing his phone on the table. "Good news is he knows a guy who knows a guy that can help us. He's going to call back."

Dean gnawed thoughtfully on a strip of bacon. "Fo hmwha do ee do in uh methimm?" Luckily Sam was fluent in Dean and understood what he had said.

"How about you chew your food before you choke on it? Obviously we wait and see if we can find out anything else on our own." Sam fished out his wallet and flicked a couple bills onto the table.

Dean mumbled 'bitch' under his breath and took his last rasher of bacon with him. Cas didn't think he would ever get used to riding in the impala. At least they let him ride in the front sometimes. Mostly whenever he did something especially helpful or provided needed information. He didn't know why, but it made him feel good in a way the was new, a very human way. Like he was part of the family now.

He was not sitting there as they drove back to the hotel. It was very slow going. The roads were icy and Dean was being careful not to fishtail as he turned into the motel parking lot. During the night Cas had hung a wreath on the door, his hands still smelled like pine. Sam and Dean exchanged looks in the front of the car. They walked up to the door, Dean wary of the wreath, their last encounter with one had been unpleasant to put it mildly. Sam just grinned as he turned the key in the door, opening it into the peppermint scented room. Dean noticed the mistletoe was back and nearly twisted an ankle trying to get it down, which Sam found to be the funniest thing he had ever seen.

Cas resumed his position in front of the tv. There wasn't much else for him to do. He didn't want to do any more decorating while the brothers were watching. Hopefully they would get the information they needed soon. It was likely they would abandon him in the motel room again. So he started up Rudolph again with what was probably flagrant abuse of angelic powers. But tis the season. He was starting to rather like this Christmas thing.

Dean flopped down on his bed, belly full of bacon and more pilfered cookies. He felt unusually at ease in the room. Everything smelled like candy, they didn't have to spend the day running through the frozen tundra of a Midwestern wood, and nobody had tried to have a soul searching feelings talk in a week. He was almost happy. It felt like he was being infected by the Christmas spirit. He lay with his face in the pillow and thought about maybe getting something for Sammy as a Christmas gift as he drifted off.

Sam paced for awhile, waiting for Garth to call back. He noticed Dean had gone back to bed, not even bothering to take his jeans off. He hoped he had only been overcome by the great need to nap that you sometimes felt after a large meal, and that he wasn't getting sick. That would mean at least another week here, and Dean acting like a big baby, all laid up with the sniffles.

He ceased his pacing, standing behind the couch to watch an angel completely entranced by an forty some year old animation about a flying reindeer. It was frankly unsettling how often Sam though 'I guess this is my life now'. Cas was quiet. Almost in a trance state, maybe he was communing with heaven again. Maybe he was still a little crazy.

"Cas. Castiel?" Sam waved a hand in front of his face.

"Sam." Castiel's voice was low and even.

"Are you okay?" Cas still hadn't looked at him.

"I am fine. I simply find this film to be...fascinating." He touched the television and it paused on a fuzzy shot of Herbie the Elf.

"Umm okay. Well if you need anything, I'll be over here." Sam sat down at the tiny table in front of the window.

He knew the angel wouldn't need anything, and could just fly away if he wanted. To be honest, it was a little strange to have him around so frequently. Strange but not uncomfortable. Castiel was a pleasant presence, especially this time of year. Almost like a guardian angel. He leaned his chin on his hand, he didn't know if it was because the room was so warm or because he had slept poorly the night before, but he started to doze off and was only awakened by the ringing of his phone.

It was Garth with some new information. They would need to preform a ritual. Luckily all the key ingredients were easy to find. They would need a lock of hair from the previous victim though. Sam debated on waking Dean. It should be easy enough to get back into the morgue. They had been there just yesterday. He quickly dressed in his suit, collected his fake badge, and scrawled a note for Dean. He told Cas he would be back shortly, and gave him a brief summary of the ritual they would be performing.

He was slightly worried to leave Dean, but Cas was there and as much as they attempted to coddle him he really was a powerful multidimensional being who could take care of himself and Dean for the half hour tops, that he would be gone. Castiel wasn't in a rush to go anywhere and wouldn't leave Dean alone like this. Sam carefully nicked the keys from his brother's pocket and left.

Castiel clicked off the tv. Dean was dreaming again. There was a tree with flashing lights and tinsel. Sam's dream tree had garlands of cranberries and popcorn, it was more old fashioned. In Dean's dream, someone was singing carols, it was peaceful. Under the tree were several gifts wrapped in old newspaper. All of them were addressed to Sam. Sam's dreams mirrored this, the gifts were wrapped nicer, but they were all for Dean. Cas knew he should probably feel bad for accessing their dreams, but it was hard not to when it was so clear that they wanted these things.

Instead of dwelling on t, he magic'd in some lights, put the mistletoe back up, (From his seconds of research on the subject he could not tell why Dean was so opposed to it. It was only a plant.) and set a small snowman figure on the table. During this, Castiel was quiet as a mouse so Dean didn't stir. The last thing he did before returning to his movies, was set a stack of books on the bedside table. On the very bottom was Twas the Night Before Christmas.

Dean woke up twenty minutes later. His eyes resting curiously on the neat stack of childrens books before doing a double take, which was an impressive feat laying down. The one on the bottom was just in his dream from last night. But it was a very popular book and Cas had somehow developed a taste in the Christmas classics in the last two days. He assumed it was some weird case of angel cabin fever. They should really let him get out more. Things were starting to get weird.

He got up, patting down the fly away hair on one side of his head, and wiping the corner of his mouth. He slumped down next to the angel on the couch. At least he had moved on to another movie for now. Dean didn't know it, but there was a little girl and a guy that looked like Santa.

"Hey Cas. Where'd Sammy get to?" he was slighty worried about him driving his baby in the snow.

"He received a call. There is a ritual to banish this demon. Hair from her last victim is needed. He will return soon." Dean nodded. Sam had gone back to the morgue. Nothing too dangerous, and not that far to go, which was good because the roads were icy.

Dean suddenly remembered the books on the nightstand. He left the sofa and went to examine them. He picked up the one with the red cover plus the blanket off the bed before returning to Cas. It was much colder now that he was out of bed. He asked if Cas had left those books there.

"Yes. Did you wish to read one?" A common theme in Dean's dreams was reading this book aloud.

"No. No, I will not read you a bedtime story. First, you are like four million years old. And second, you don't even sleep." Cas blinked up at him owlishly. Dean gave a pretend put upon sign that even an angel not well versed in human emotions could see though. "Fine. Just don't tell Sam, okay?"

Cas promised not to. He settled in next to Dean, in a now familiar crosslegged posture, looking four years old instead of four million. Dean cleared his throat and began to read in a voice that hadn't been used in a very very long time.

"Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse." Dean's lips began to curl into a smile and his voice became warmer. "The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that Saint Nicholas soon would be there." Dean licked his fingers and turned the page. "The children were nestled all snug in their beds, while visions of sugar plums danced in their heads. And ma in her kerchief and I in my cap, had just settled down for a long winters nap."

On the third day of their stay, a fully decorated Christmas tree popped into being while the brothers were sleeping. It landed with a thud and a jingle. It was a conglomeration of the two dream trees. It had ornaments and a popcorn garland, and lights. Both boys had imagined an angel on top, but that made Cas strangely uncomfortable so he gave it a star. It filled the room with the smell of pinewood forests and holiday cheer.

When the boys woke up that morning, they found the angel curled up on the couch with his coat thrown over him as a blanket, and Yes Virginia, There is a Santa Claus tucked under his arm. Which was wrong in so many ways. Angels weren't supposed to sleep. But maybe he had just expended too much angel juice and needed to rest. Dean brought his blanket over and covered him with it while Dean left a note. They snagged a bough of holly from their multitude of decorations. Before closing the door to their little room, Sam cast one last glance at the tree and smiled.

The ritual to summon the Yuki-onna was a simple one. Burn some sage and the victim's hair, sharpen a holly branch into a stake, and have this thing Garth sent called an Ofuda. Sam fumbled over the words for the summoning a little bit, not being as comfortable with the language as he would be with Latin. Both Winchesters wished forlornly that Bobby was there.

As soon as the thing showed up, Sam shouted the last two words as Dean shoved the stake through its chest. The monster wailed like a banshee would, and dissolved with a bang. Clearly she was not expecting to be killed. She didn't even put up a fight, and the brothers didn't even break a sweat. The whole thing took only a few hours. Dean decided to drop his brother off at the motel and go pick up lunch.

The diner by the motel was packed with people. Families, people coming from church, cold carolers getting coffee before they went out. It was a blustery day with the wind blowing snow across the roads and over the windows of the brightly lit establishment.

Dean was in the process of getting three orders of homemade meatloaf and mashed potatoes. Plus a side of pie. He thought since Cas had decided to try the sleeping thing, he might try the eating thing too. He was walking back to the impala when his phone began playing the opening of Led Zeppelin's Tea For One.

"Yeah Sammy?" Dean said, after flicking his phone open.

"Dean, he's watched Rudolph thirty eight times. Do you want to know how I know that? He told me. Now he's cutting out snowflakes and watching Elf." Sam gave a sigh that was both frustrated and seemed to convey something along the lines of 'I think we broke him'.

"Dude tell him the tv is gonna get stuck that way. I'll be there in five minutes."

He drove as fast as he cold over the ice covered roads. The door wreath had lights on it now, and Dean almost walked past it. On entering he didn't bother to take the mistletoe down, just glared at it briefly so it wouldn't get any ideas. He placed the food on the table and stalked over to where Cas was sitting on the sofa. He could hear the dull hiss of the shower and assumed Sam was in there trying to escape repeat viewings of holiday films.

"Cas buddy, you okay? You wanna eat something maybe?" Dean inched closer, checking to see if the angel's eyes had glazed over yet.

"Dean, you know I don't require sustenance." Cas had put his coat back on, even though Dean swore it was like a sauna in their room. It made him tired.

Sam came out of the bathroom whistling Jingle Bells. It was destined to get stuck in Dean's head and he was not happy about it. He went back to the table and began to eat his meatloaf while staring sullenly out the window. Sam joined him, one wary eye on their celestial compatriot. He had a bit of potato half way to his mouth when he got an idea, which he conveyed in whispers to his table mate.

It was much colder outside than it had been that morning. Sam and Dean had quickly finished their meal and donned their gay apparel. They turned off the tv and ushered Cas outside into the snow. He didn't have a hat or scarf or even a ratty old pair of mittens and the Winchesters had no spares. But he said angels didn't feel the cold anyway so he would be fine. Sam had decided that they all needed to stop being cooped up in the room, as festive as it may be, and build a snowman. Dean grumbled at first, but if it would get Cas outside he was for it. He took a handful of the fluffy powder and made it into a ball, he knelt down in the cold wet snow and showed the angel how to roll it into a larger one so they could build the snow man.

"I don't understand. How can it be a man of snow if there are no legs?" Cas was still kneeling in the snow, the knees of his slacks cold and wet through.

"Its only called a snowman Cas, its just something ids make when it snows." Sam said, walking off to gather branches for the snowman's arms.

Dean grabbed another handful of snow and carefully formed the perfect snowball. He snuck up behind his brother, careful not to catch his attention. He cocked his arm back, took aim, and fired the snowball at the back of his brother's head. It found its mark, bursting apart on impact. Sam dropped the branches he was carrying and raised his hand to the back of his head. Dean watched as he slowly bent down and formed his own snow missile. Then he took off running, leaving Cas to watch with an interested look on his face, as the brothers chased eachother across the winter wonderland.

Sam missed his shot as Dean executed a perfect zigzag in the snow, formed another snowball, and doubled back to chuck it at his brother. Cas stood by watching for a minute before collecting the snowman's arms and attaching them. Both of the Winchesters were slipping and sliding over the ice coated parking lot, back over the sliver of snowy lawn, and around the impala. Sam nailed Dean in the face, and he retaliated by taking a big armload of snow and dumping it down the back of Sam's jacket where it started melting and trickling cold water down his back.

"Aah! Damn it Dean!" Sam immediately stopped running and tried to shake some of the snow out of his clothes. "Some of it went down my pants." He turned and gave Dean a kicked puppy look.

"Don't be such a baby Sammy. A little water won't hurt you." Dean shouted as Sam gave him the finger and trotted back to the hotel room to dry off.

Dean just laughed, heading back over to Cas and their completed snowman. The brothers had managed to find two loose mismatched buttons rolling around in their duffel bags, and a half wilted baby carrot off of one of Sam's salads. Castiel had added a smile made out of a bent twig. It was a good looking snow man. On the way there, Dean slipped, one leg going up in comic fashion as he crashed to the ground with a squawk. Instead of getting up, he just lay down in the snow.

"Hey Cas, come here. I wanna show you something." Cas approached curiously. "Lay down over here." He easily complied, slidding down to lay next to Dean. Briefly wondering what they were doing laying in the snow when he knew, even if he couldn't feel it, that it was cold. "Good. Now move your arms and legs like this."

Dean flapped his arms, making shapes in the snow. Cas mimicked him. Then Dean slowly and carefully got to his feet and gave Cas a hand up. They stepped back and looked at their handiwork. Dean beamed. He turned Cas around and pointed down into the snow.

"Look Cas, you made a snow angel."

Once everyone was back inside with their gloves and boots drying over the radiator and cheeks rosy red, even Cas in a worn out tshirt and sleep pants, they all huddled in on the sofa again. They had spent a lot of time there in the last three days, but with the Yuki-onna dead they would be gone soon. Although neither would admit it, they had been enjoying their brief semi-vacation with Cas. Dean had established a no Rudolph rule. It was Christmas eve and there wasn't much worth watching. Sam had the remote and was clicking through the handful of channels until he found something good. The Grinch was just starting and Dean wanted to watch it.

They had ordered a pizza and the empty box sat on the floor at their feet as they licked the last bit of cheesy grease off their fingers and nibbled on gingerbread men. The cheery Who music began playing and the trio settled down in the glow of the movie. Sam and Dean were warm and full, Cas was there, the tree gleamed with tiny colored sparks, things were good.

Soon the two brothers were snoozing, Dean on Cas' right, and Sam on the left, letting out small matching snores. The movie droned on. Castiel found he liked this one even more than his previous favorite. And then he heard something that struck him to the core.

And the Grinch, with his grinch-feet ice-cold in the snow, stood puzzling and puzzling: "How could it be so? It came without ribbons! It came without tags! It came without packages, boxes or bags!" And he puzzled three hours, `till his puzzler was sore. Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before! "Maybe Christmas,"'he thought, "doesn't come from a store. Maybe Christmas...perhaps...means a little bit more!"

Then Cas got an idea. A wonderful idea. A truly wonderful, splendid idea! He packed up the gingerbread house, he packed up the mistletoe, he packed up the lights, the snowflakes, the books, the cookies, and the clutter. The tree got to stay. He knew now it wasn't all these things that had made the Winchesters happy. It had been the time they spent together, not having fights, being as relatively safe and happy as a Winchester knew how. They didn't need all the knick-knacks and bows. He felt he might have grasped what Christmas was really about.

What woke the Winchester boys on Christmas morning was the smell of pancakes and bacon. Both brothers sat up from the couch, stretching. Twin noses twitching, trying to sniff out their breakfast without even opening their eyes. They followed the scent trail like hounds, all the way to the table stacked high with food. The table and room were no longer cluttered but they didn't seem to care that all the festive things had gone missing.

After stuffing their faces with what was honestly more pancakes than either had ever eaten, they both scrambled toward their bags and drug out a small bundle of newspaper wrapped packages. They rushed to the tree and sat beneath it like two fresh faced little boys, beckoning for Cas to join them. He had been watching them curiously from his seat at the table. He tilted his head and walked the short way to where the brothers sat exchanging their gifts. Dean was tearing open a lumpy package with gusto.

"Aww Sammy new tapes for my baby. Where did you even find these?" his eyes were scanning the plastic shells that the tapes were in. There was a very nearly new copy of Zeppelin IV, some Sabbath, and Pink Floyd's Wish You Were Here.

"I got them for a quarter at the library in town, there was a whole pile. I noticed some of yours were wearing out." Dean turned and gave Sam a one armed hug. Sam gingerly unwrapped his gift, tearing away the paper and laughing.

"Socks! Just what I always wanted." he shook his head and gave a big belly laugh.

"I know how hard it is to find some that fit your gigantor feet."

"Thanks Dean." Sam returned his brother's hug, with enthusiasm, patting him on the back. Both of them turned to Castiel. "Are you going to open your presents?" Sam handed over the small pile of remaining packages. "I think this one is from Dean."

They watched eagerly as the angel opened his gifts with torturous slowness. Once part of Dean's gift had been uncovered, both men covered their mouths to suppress an outbreak of giggles. Cas looked very confused as he held up the little wooden angel ornament. It had once said 'Baby's first Christmas', but Dean had sharpie'd over it so it now read 'Angel's first Christmas'.

"It an ornament for our tree Cas." Dean grinned at him.

"Oh. Thank you Dean." Cas said in a way that was so sincere it felt like Dean had given him the best thing in the world instead of a crumby joke ornament.

"Here. Open mine." Sam cried, looking like a big floppy puppy some child had asked Santa for.

This present was opened just as slowly, soft navy fabric spilling out over the newspaper wrapping. Cas set aside a long flowing scarf, a pair of mittens, and a matching hat. All in navy, all downy soft. At this the angel gave a bright smile.

"Thank you Sam." Then his smile faded. "But I did not acquire any gifts for you." Sam and Dean only smiled and said that wasn't true. Of course he did. He gave them the best Christmas they had ever had.

And that night the Winchesters didn't dream of anything because they already had everything they needed.