[Fic] Our First Christmas (PG-13) for downfall35
Gift type: Fanfic
Title: Something Prized Above All
Recipient: downfall35
Author: writing_racoon
Rating: Ugh, I hate rating. Uhh, PG-13?
Warnings: Slash (duh), angst I guess.
Spoilers: Spoilers for ep 5x02, x08, x10. Nothing uber specific, but mentions.
Summary: Christmas. It's a time for family, for friends. For discovering something that may have been there all along?
Author notes: Uhh, The title sucks, but I suck at titles, so that was kind of a given. Also, I may have cheated slightly. Not Cas's first xmas on Earth, but the first one they celebrate as a whole.
--
December 23rd, 2013
Snow trickled from the sky as the world prepared for the holidays. Father’s retrieved their Santa outfits from the secret hiding place, mother’s wrapped gifts in colourful paper, children handed clumsy, homemade Christmas cards to each other.
In New York City the streets were filled with people, all rushing and harried. Umbrella’s bobbed along, circles of red and green and blue visible even from the sky.
Castiel watched all this, his eyes seeing everything, taking the whole scene in. So this was Christmas. The last time he’d walked the earth, two and a half thousand years ago, the saviour hadn’t even been born. Christmas was still a pagan tradition, and all his brothers were in heaven. Now, a mere two and a half millennia later, his brother by blood as well as religion had been cast out to earth, sent to hell, had returned and walked the earth before being consigned to hell again. His closest friend and confidant had left heaven to become a pagan god. His partner had killed almost their whole garrison to aid Lucifer. His commander had her Grace ripped from her not once but twice, and fought Lucifer as both angel and human. His world had come crashing down around his ears, and still he stood tall, propped up by the two people who were never meant to survive the apocalypse. The Winchester brothers had become his family, when heaven didn’t answer his cries for help. They had become his faith, his very belief. When he could believe in nothing else, they were there. And Dean. Dean had become... something.
He couldn’t really put a label on it. Dean was just Dean.
That was why he was here. Sam had explained the concept of Christmas to him, in particular, the giving and receiving of presents. And he was here, buying a gift for Dean. But what to get him?
What do you buy someone you pulled out of hell singlehandedly, fought side by side with for four long years against the denizens of hell?
He wandered the streets idly, gazing around him with interest. Christmas seemed to be a truly magical time. It was the one time a year when people seemed to be kind to everyone else, regardless. It didn’t matter your race, gender, age or even sexual orientation. Christmas was Christmas and everyone believed that it was to be the season of goodwill, of giving and receiving. Which of course brought him right back round to what to buy Dean.
The obvious answer was some sort of weaponry, and the old Dean would have thanked him for a new gun or silver knife. But it wasn’t the old Dean. This was a new Dean. One who had seen too many weapons, and spent too many years fighting for violence to give him any joy. No longer did he laugh while hunting, grin wide on his face as he flew through a forest after a rogue demon, no grim smile haunting his features as he taunted ghosts with rock salt. The new Dean was still as good at his job as he always had been, but he now did it with a stony face, using the tools he had to do the job. Because that’s what it had become. It was no life a life, just a job. And not even a paying one.
Another guess would be something for the Impala. But again, while Dean still took joy in his baby, Castiel wanted it to be something for Dean, not Dean and his car.
Castiel watched, and Castiel thought. What he wanted, really wanted, was something to bring a little of the old Dean back to this hardened exterior.
The old Dean...
And then Castiel knew. And it wasn’t something he could buy in any shop. With a final glance at Christmas, Castiel left.
--
December 25th, 2013
They sat around the Christmas tree at Bobby’s at Sam insistence. The grizzled hunter was in his chair, pouring drinks for them all. Four years and an apocalypse and he still hadn’t gotten his legs back. Castiel still carried his burden of guilt for that. He should have healed him, but he couldn’t. He just couldn’t.
Sam and Dean were slumped on the couch, brother by brother. They had long ago made up their differences and were back to the Sam and Dean they had been before the Apocalypse, before hell, before Ruby.
Castiel took his usual spot, the chair in which Ellen had sat, the night before her death. Four years and it still ate away at Castiel that, of all the people, he couldn’t save Ellen. Possibly the one that deserved to live more than anyone else had to die to save the rest.
Bobby wheeled in, beer for the brothers, whiskey for himself and Castiel, and Christmas was officially started.
They toasted all the people who had fallen in the past four years, hunters and otherwise, and finally, they toasted John. The one who began it, all those years ago. Then came the time to swap presents. With money being tight, hunter and angel being two of the lowest incomes in the lower forty eight, they had devised a secret Santa system. The names went into Bobby’s hat, and after a sarcastic comment or two from Dean and a glare from Bobby, they were picked out. Castiel remembered unfolding the scrap of paper; Dean written on it in Sam’s curly writing.
Dean took a swig of beer before turning to Bobby and handing over the wrapped present, a smile on his face rarely seen. Bobby steadied his whiskey glass on one knee before awkwardly opening the gift. A grin spread across his face and he laughed, a great booming sound that shocked them all. Wiping tears of mirth from his cheeks, he turned around the thin strips of card that had been hidden under the colourful paper. It was bumper stickers, obviously meant for the wheelchair. One read ‘My other car is a chair too’, and the other, obviously doctored, had once read ‘Make it idiot proof, someone will just make a better idiot’, and someone (Castiel was betting Dean) had crossed out the ‘idiot’’s, rewriting idjit, Bobby’s favourite term of endearment over the top. Sam smirked, and Castiel allowed himself a smile. Next up it was Bobby’s term to hand over a large box, held shut with brown package tape. Sam cocked an eyebrow at the wrapping, drawing a small knife from his sock and slitting around the box, lifting the lid off. In it was half a dozen books on various supernatural creatures and their lore. He smiled wide, thanking Bobby and pulling one out about fey, flicking through it contentedly. When Dean elbowed him, he started, remembering where he was. He pulled a medium sized parcel out from behind a couch cushion, handing it over. Uncertain, Castiel pulled on the wrapping paper like he had watched Bobby do. It came off easily, Sam being a much better hunter than he was at wrapping presents, and Castiel was left with a strange fluffy object in his hands. It was yellow and circular, with a wire leading down from it and circling round underneath to create a smaller version. Dean let out a snort of laughter, and Bobby chuckled. ‘Dude,’ Dean managed between laughs, ‘You, are awesome!’ he hit Sam in the shoulder, while Castiel still looked at it in confusion.
‘I don’t understand,’ he said, looking up at the red faced trio. Bobby, the only coherent one, wheeled forward, lifting Castiel’s hands up and placing the object on his head. Castiel looked over at the mirror and understood. It was a halo, like what would appear in a child’s drawing of an angel. He laughed joyfully, amused no end by this. After some time, the laughter died down, and there was one only last gift to give.
Castiel reached into his pocket, drawing out the only thing he could think to give the man who meant more to him than anyone else. Dean Winchester was no longer merely his charge. He was everything to Castiel, and he couldn’t imagine a soul as pure as Dean’s. Truly, he would rather lose his Grace than lose Dean.
He had made the choice once before, and Fell. And no matter the outcome, Castiel knew that if the time came to choose again, he would exactly the same way, because like it or not, he loved Dean, and he didn’t care.
Out of his pocket, he drew the only thing he had ever asked of Dean and placed it in his outstretched hand. ‘Merry Christmas Dean,’ he said, before standing and walking away, leaving the Singer house to stand on the porch, and wait. What for, he wasn’t sure.
--
Dean held his hand closed for a few moments, watching Castiel leave, his trench coat swaying in the sudden breeze. They all listened to the door shutting behind him, before looking at Dean. ‘What is it?’ Sam asked. Dean looked at his clenched fist, slowly opening it.
Tears sprang to his eyes, the first tears he’d cried in a long time. After the apocalypse, tears seemed so unnecessary. People were dead, crying wasn’t going to bring them back. But this time, he couldn’t hold them back, a single teardrop sliding down his face as he slipped his most prized possession over his head. The amulet Sam had given him when he had been eleven, and Dean fifteen, had been another casualty, claimed by the apocalypse just like Ellen, Jo, Anna. It had meant more to him than anything else could, and Castiel had taken it in his search for God.
And now he had given it back. Dean knew now what he had to do. Something he should have done years ago.
Dean stood up and followed the path Castiel had taken second earlier, throwing the front door open and striding into the crisp, clear, night air.
Castiel stood by the steps, gazing at something Dean couldn’t begin to guess at. He turned at Dean’s approach, and said one word. ‘Dean,’
Dean cut him off, sealing their lips together with a kiss, soft at first, but growing more passionate at time went on, clashing tongues and teeth and lips in an endless show of love.
Finally, after what seemed like an age, they parted, panting slightly.
‘Cas, I don’t know if you feel the same way, but I have lost too damn much in this freaking world, to let you go too. It sounds freakin’ insane, even to me, but I think, I think I love you. And that’s something I stopped myself from feeling a long time ago. Loving someone only gets you heartbroken and hurting, but at this point, I couldn’t give a damn. I want you Cas. And I know you’re an angel, and that’s frowned upon by the man upstairs, but I can’t honestly think of something that matters less.’ Dean took a breath and smiled, his nose crinkling, like it always did when he bared his soul. ‘I guess what I’m trying to say is, I’m here. And, if you want me, I’m yours.’
Cas was silent, his blue eyes boring into Dean, making him wriggle. Then he leaned forward suddenly, brushing his lips against Dean’s quickly. He lifted his hand up, placing on the same point he had gripped Dean five years ago, to raise his from the bowels of hell. Dean shivered, jade eyes meeting azure. ‘Mine,’ Cas said quietly.
That one word made Dean’s heart swell so much, he didn’t care what else happened tonight, but he knew how it was ending. He grabbed Cas’s hand and led him inside, up the stairs into Dean’s makeshift bedroom...
Title: Something Prized Above All
Recipient: downfall35
Author: writing_racoon
Rating: Ugh, I hate rating. Uhh, PG-13?
Warnings: Slash (duh), angst I guess.
Spoilers: Spoilers for ep 5x02, x08, x10. Nothing uber specific, but mentions.
Summary: Christmas. It's a time for family, for friends. For discovering something that may have been there all along?
Author notes: Uhh, The title sucks, but I suck at titles, so that was kind of a given. Also, I may have cheated slightly. Not Cas's first xmas on Earth, but the first one they celebrate as a whole.
--
December 23rd, 2013
Snow trickled from the sky as the world prepared for the holidays. Father’s retrieved their Santa outfits from the secret hiding place, mother’s wrapped gifts in colourful paper, children handed clumsy, homemade Christmas cards to each other.
In New York City the streets were filled with people, all rushing and harried. Umbrella’s bobbed along, circles of red and green and blue visible even from the sky.
Castiel watched all this, his eyes seeing everything, taking the whole scene in. So this was Christmas. The last time he’d walked the earth, two and a half thousand years ago, the saviour hadn’t even been born. Christmas was still a pagan tradition, and all his brothers were in heaven. Now, a mere two and a half millennia later, his brother by blood as well as religion had been cast out to earth, sent to hell, had returned and walked the earth before being consigned to hell again. His closest friend and confidant had left heaven to become a pagan god. His partner had killed almost their whole garrison to aid Lucifer. His commander had her Grace ripped from her not once but twice, and fought Lucifer as both angel and human. His world had come crashing down around his ears, and still he stood tall, propped up by the two people who were never meant to survive the apocalypse. The Winchester brothers had become his family, when heaven didn’t answer his cries for help. They had become his faith, his very belief. When he could believe in nothing else, they were there. And Dean. Dean had become... something.
He couldn’t really put a label on it. Dean was just Dean.
That was why he was here. Sam had explained the concept of Christmas to him, in particular, the giving and receiving of presents. And he was here, buying a gift for Dean. But what to get him?
What do you buy someone you pulled out of hell singlehandedly, fought side by side with for four long years against the denizens of hell?
He wandered the streets idly, gazing around him with interest. Christmas seemed to be a truly magical time. It was the one time a year when people seemed to be kind to everyone else, regardless. It didn’t matter your race, gender, age or even sexual orientation. Christmas was Christmas and everyone believed that it was to be the season of goodwill, of giving and receiving. Which of course brought him right back round to what to buy Dean.
The obvious answer was some sort of weaponry, and the old Dean would have thanked him for a new gun or silver knife. But it wasn’t the old Dean. This was a new Dean. One who had seen too many weapons, and spent too many years fighting for violence to give him any joy. No longer did he laugh while hunting, grin wide on his face as he flew through a forest after a rogue demon, no grim smile haunting his features as he taunted ghosts with rock salt. The new Dean was still as good at his job as he always had been, but he now did it with a stony face, using the tools he had to do the job. Because that’s what it had become. It was no life a life, just a job. And not even a paying one.
Another guess would be something for the Impala. But again, while Dean still took joy in his baby, Castiel wanted it to be something for Dean, not Dean and his car.
Castiel watched, and Castiel thought. What he wanted, really wanted, was something to bring a little of the old Dean back to this hardened exterior.
The old Dean...
And then Castiel knew. And it wasn’t something he could buy in any shop. With a final glance at Christmas, Castiel left.
--
December 25th, 2013
They sat around the Christmas tree at Bobby’s at Sam insistence. The grizzled hunter was in his chair, pouring drinks for them all. Four years and an apocalypse and he still hadn’t gotten his legs back. Castiel still carried his burden of guilt for that. He should have healed him, but he couldn’t. He just couldn’t.
Sam and Dean were slumped on the couch, brother by brother. They had long ago made up their differences and were back to the Sam and Dean they had been before the Apocalypse, before hell, before Ruby.
Castiel took his usual spot, the chair in which Ellen had sat, the night before her death. Four years and it still ate away at Castiel that, of all the people, he couldn’t save Ellen. Possibly the one that deserved to live more than anyone else had to die to save the rest.
Bobby wheeled in, beer for the brothers, whiskey for himself and Castiel, and Christmas was officially started.
They toasted all the people who had fallen in the past four years, hunters and otherwise, and finally, they toasted John. The one who began it, all those years ago. Then came the time to swap presents. With money being tight, hunter and angel being two of the lowest incomes in the lower forty eight, they had devised a secret Santa system. The names went into Bobby’s hat, and after a sarcastic comment or two from Dean and a glare from Bobby, they were picked out. Castiel remembered unfolding the scrap of paper; Dean written on it in Sam’s curly writing.
Dean took a swig of beer before turning to Bobby and handing over the wrapped present, a smile on his face rarely seen. Bobby steadied his whiskey glass on one knee before awkwardly opening the gift. A grin spread across his face and he laughed, a great booming sound that shocked them all. Wiping tears of mirth from his cheeks, he turned around the thin strips of card that had been hidden under the colourful paper. It was bumper stickers, obviously meant for the wheelchair. One read ‘My other car is a chair too’, and the other, obviously doctored, had once read ‘Make it idiot proof, someone will just make a better idiot’, and someone (Castiel was betting Dean) had crossed out the ‘idiot’’s, rewriting idjit, Bobby’s favourite term of endearment over the top. Sam smirked, and Castiel allowed himself a smile. Next up it was Bobby’s term to hand over a large box, held shut with brown package tape. Sam cocked an eyebrow at the wrapping, drawing a small knife from his sock and slitting around the box, lifting the lid off. In it was half a dozen books on various supernatural creatures and their lore. He smiled wide, thanking Bobby and pulling one out about fey, flicking through it contentedly. When Dean elbowed him, he started, remembering where he was. He pulled a medium sized parcel out from behind a couch cushion, handing it over. Uncertain, Castiel pulled on the wrapping paper like he had watched Bobby do. It came off easily, Sam being a much better hunter than he was at wrapping presents, and Castiel was left with a strange fluffy object in his hands. It was yellow and circular, with a wire leading down from it and circling round underneath to create a smaller version. Dean let out a snort of laughter, and Bobby chuckled. ‘Dude,’ Dean managed between laughs, ‘You, are awesome!’ he hit Sam in the shoulder, while Castiel still looked at it in confusion.
‘I don’t understand,’ he said, looking up at the red faced trio. Bobby, the only coherent one, wheeled forward, lifting Castiel’s hands up and placing the object on his head. Castiel looked over at the mirror and understood. It was a halo, like what would appear in a child’s drawing of an angel. He laughed joyfully, amused no end by this. After some time, the laughter died down, and there was one only last gift to give.
Castiel reached into his pocket, drawing out the only thing he could think to give the man who meant more to him than anyone else. Dean Winchester was no longer merely his charge. He was everything to Castiel, and he couldn’t imagine a soul as pure as Dean’s. Truly, he would rather lose his Grace than lose Dean.
He had made the choice once before, and Fell. And no matter the outcome, Castiel knew that if the time came to choose again, he would exactly the same way, because like it or not, he loved Dean, and he didn’t care.
Out of his pocket, he drew the only thing he had ever asked of Dean and placed it in his outstretched hand. ‘Merry Christmas Dean,’ he said, before standing and walking away, leaving the Singer house to stand on the porch, and wait. What for, he wasn’t sure.
--
Dean held his hand closed for a few moments, watching Castiel leave, his trench coat swaying in the sudden breeze. They all listened to the door shutting behind him, before looking at Dean. ‘What is it?’ Sam asked. Dean looked at his clenched fist, slowly opening it.
Tears sprang to his eyes, the first tears he’d cried in a long time. After the apocalypse, tears seemed so unnecessary. People were dead, crying wasn’t going to bring them back. But this time, he couldn’t hold them back, a single teardrop sliding down his face as he slipped his most prized possession over his head. The amulet Sam had given him when he had been eleven, and Dean fifteen, had been another casualty, claimed by the apocalypse just like Ellen, Jo, Anna. It had meant more to him than anything else could, and Castiel had taken it in his search for God.
And now he had given it back. Dean knew now what he had to do. Something he should have done years ago.
Dean stood up and followed the path Castiel had taken second earlier, throwing the front door open and striding into the crisp, clear, night air.
Castiel stood by the steps, gazing at something Dean couldn’t begin to guess at. He turned at Dean’s approach, and said one word. ‘Dean,’
Dean cut him off, sealing their lips together with a kiss, soft at first, but growing more passionate at time went on, clashing tongues and teeth and lips in an endless show of love.
Finally, after what seemed like an age, they parted, panting slightly.
‘Cas, I don’t know if you feel the same way, but I have lost too damn much in this freaking world, to let you go too. It sounds freakin’ insane, even to me, but I think, I think I love you. And that’s something I stopped myself from feeling a long time ago. Loving someone only gets you heartbroken and hurting, but at this point, I couldn’t give a damn. I want you Cas. And I know you’re an angel, and that’s frowned upon by the man upstairs, but I can’t honestly think of something that matters less.’ Dean took a breath and smiled, his nose crinkling, like it always did when he bared his soul. ‘I guess what I’m trying to say is, I’m here. And, if you want me, I’m yours.’
Cas was silent, his blue eyes boring into Dean, making him wriggle. Then he leaned forward suddenly, brushing his lips against Dean’s quickly. He lifted his hand up, placing on the same point he had gripped Dean five years ago, to raise his from the bowels of hell. Dean shivered, jade eyes meeting azure. ‘Mine,’ Cas said quietly.
That one word made Dean’s heart swell so much, he didn’t care what else happened tonight, but he knew how it was ending. He grabbed Cas’s hand and led him inside, up the stairs into Dean’s makeshift bedroom...