Not Store Bought, Castiel Fic, Gen, PG13
How great are those happy meme's? I had a rubbish day a couple of the days I thought of happy things for, and it really made me think! Every day has a silver lining! I may think of something every day before bed in 09 just to get into that mindset ;)
On that note - I had the idea for this wee fic and thought I would try and write it. Even the J2 I wrote back in August so... fic! Happy Christmas to you all. Will have an SPN/PSYCH fic before Xmas also. That is happy making, to me anyway - WRITING!
Not Store Bought
Gen. No Pairings.
2376 words.
No warnings - one swear word only!
Castiel is buying the Winchesters an Xmas present. This is not part of the mission.
Thanks to dotfic for the beta and encouragement. These characters do not belong to me.
This is not part of the plan. Castiel does not have orders to supply the Winchesters with their ammunition. He watches the man at the counter rub fat, callused fingers over a rifle. The man picks it up, his large stomach bouncing against the counter, and he pretends to shoot the rifle into the air.
Castiel wonders what the rifle is for. Hunting, maybe. Small wildlife. For sports.
Castiel doesn’t understand humans and their ways. Their sports. The things they do for fun. Especially when they involve killing. Killing should be carried out for a higher purpose than sport.
He suspects Uriel might not always agree.
The man nods, placing the rifle back down onto the counter, and Castiel waits further while the store clerk counts out ammunition, several small boxes of death placed in a neat row.
Castiel pushes his hands further in his pockets, turns 360 degrees, searching the store for anything to watch other than this man with his pudgy fingers buying his gun. The streets outside the store are full. This is the only store that is empty of people. The street outside is bustling, shoulders banging into shoulders, bags catching bags. Full of people doing Christmas shopping. Full of people buying gifts.
Castiel does not have orders to be giving the Winchesters a gift. He is not certain what he is doing here. Castiel dislikes not being certain. He hates the swell it causes in his stomach, the bile that reaches up to his mouth, the sense of being lost.
They need ammunition, and weaponry, Castiel reasons. They need it for the higher mission. He is helping his own orders, in the long run, by being in this store.
The man jokes with the store clerk about the "larger game" he can get with the rifle. Castiel continues watching the street, his eyes landing on a small child tripping along, small red bag in one hand, the other clutching her mother’s earnestly.
Castiel leaves the store and breathes in the cold air outside. He can smell bread, but cannot see the store that must be baking it. He stands with his back to the store, letting the crowd outside pass by him. He is separate from it. Even if he plunges into the middle of it, none of the crowd will touch him.
Castiel should leave and give up this plan to shop. He doesn’t. He plunges into the crowd and follows the family with the small child. They have been shopping a while, but the child is still smiling, and not tired. He wants to go up to them, to ask them why they join in this tradition that is based on pagan rituals, even though they purport to believe in Christ. He wants to understand why they act this way.
He remains where he is, a safe few meter gap behind them.
The family stop by a stall, and the mother lets go of the child’s hand to reach in her purse so she can buy them all a snack. The father immediately picks up the child, leans her into the stall so she can pick her own cookie to eat. The child’s face lights up. Perhaps this is following Christ’s orders. Perhaps this is all some demonstration of Goodwill.
Castiel follows them as they leave the stall.
He ends up standing in a large store that sells all manner of goods. He loses them near the entrance, and wanders into the aisles and aisles of goods, all purporting to have ten percent off or two for one specials. ‘Beat the Crunch and Get More Munch’ a sign exclaims in front of a display of cheap holiday cookies. ‘Get more for YOUR family at Christmas’ cries another, in front of a display of chocolates, and Castiel doesn’t understand why you wouldn’t get more for someone else’s family.
The gifts seem largely pointless to him. Candles that smell like flowers. Plastic toys that will break the second they are touched. Sweet foods that nobody needs to eat unless they want a heart attack.
People are buying them in droves. A few gifts appear to be useful - one section has something called ‘executive toys’ and Castiel supposes that relates to a job. Overall though, he decides he was right not to buy ammunition as a gift.
He will buy them something useless.
He wanders the aisles, past lotions and perfumes, and ends up standing in front of a section of CDs. Dean likes loud music. Castiel has heard it in the car. Dean appreciates loud music that appears to have no tune, and to be full of people shouting. None of the music is labelled this way, unfortunately. He tries to remember band names Dean has said, but fails. The CDs Castiel believes would contain loud music all appear to have titles worshipping Satan, and Castiel draws his hand away from even touching those.
Not a CD for Dean then. He wanders on, looking around him for a gift that says Sam. Sam is harder. If Castiel is stuck, he will buy Dean food of some kind, unhealthy looking food, and he is sure Dean will appreciate it. Sam…
Castiel is not sure of Sam. Dean would not like it if Castiel did not buy Sam a gift, Castiel suspects. Castiel therefore finds himself examining the socks, wondering if Sam is a days of the week or a reindeer sort of man. Sam might want to keep track of days of the week, on the road, passing through one town after another. How does he know which day it is?
Castiel walks around the rest of the store with the pack of socks in his hand, looking for something better.
The music being piped into the store is loud, with many bells jangling. The store gets hot the more Castiel walks around it. His tie feels tight around his neck. He picks up some candy for Dean, and gets to the counter and stands in line.
Next to the counter are rows of more gifts. Red hats. Candied items of all descriptions. A nativity scene painted crudely onto a plate.
The couple in front of him argue loudly about whether they need a present for Great Uncle Somebody. The girl wants to buy candy. The man argues they’ll give him a heart attack. He calls him a "miserable bastard" that doesn’t deserve a present. The girl hits him on the arm.
Humans. They’re all here, in this store, arguing, getting stressed, spending money on useless items. He wonders how many of them believe. If he said he was an angel, would any of them believe the truth? Would any of them sacrifice…
Like Dean has sacrificed.
The couple come to some agreement, the man putting his arm around the girl, picking up a candy and offering to buy it for her as a peace offering. Her face lights up, she giggles, leans up and gives him a kiss on his chin, then his nose, before finding his mouth.
Gifts mean more when accompanied by an emotion then.
Castiel dumps the socks and candy next to the nativity plate. He heads for the boys’ motel room. He can give them a better gift.
They are awake when he gets there, watching a film on television. They are laughing, catching each other’s eye often.
Castiel stands outside watching them. He doesn’t want to disturb their evening together. They may deem it inappropriate for him to give them a gift and it will not be any better received after an interruption.
They go to bed and Castiel is still outside, the cold now so biting he wishes he were not in this human body with its thin protection. Now he isn’t disturbing their evening together, he feels able to creep into the room. Dean has his face pressed into the pillow, his hair attempting to reach every corner of the room. Sam is lying on his side, worry on his face even in sleep.
Castiel wakes them both.
“What the…”
“Castiel?” Sam scrambles out of bed, rubbing his eyes.
Dean merely sits up. “Dude. What is it now?”
“Are we… sleeping?” Sam pats his body several times.
Castiel beckons to Sam. “Come closer. I need to do this to you both at once.”
“Do what?” Dean narrows his eyes. “What are you going to do to us?”
“Give you your Christmas present.”
“Man, dirty. I didn’t know you swung that way.” Dean laughs, his teeth bared. He and Sam exchange glances.
Castiel suppresses a sigh. They take so little on trust. “I want to show you something. You’ll want to see it.” He meets Dean’s gaze. “I promise.”
Dean gives Sam a nod, and Sam creeps closer, sitting on the bed next to Dean, between Dean and Castiel. Castiel reaches out, touches both their foreheads.
The three of them are standing in a park. It’s a bright sunny day. There are the cries of small children floating to them on the breeze.
“What the hell?” Sam makes a sweeping motion with his arms, gesturing towards the trees, the pond, the playground, then restrains his arms to his side. Sam’s movements around Castiel are always careful.
Castiel doesn’t entirely trust Sam either.
“Fuck. You McFly’d us again. Didn’t you?” Dean steps forward, surveying the park quickly, before turning back to Castiel.
Castiel nods. “You must be careful not to be seen.” They both hear the threat in his tone, and first Dean, then Sam, give a nod of agreement. Castiel raises his hand and points to a corner of the park. A young family are there. The mother, her hair gold yellow, sits holding a baby, while the dark-haired father attempts to teach the older boy how to throw a ball.
“That’s…” Sam loses his words on the air. “Is it?”
“Mom and Dad.” Dean affirms. “And that’s you.” He nods toward the baby before whirling around to face Castiel. Dean blinks like the wind is bothering his eyes, and he swallows. “Is there some… we’d better not be here ‘cause you’re showing us something freaky. If Azazel shows us here, then… tell us why we’re here.”
“Just to watch.” Castiels tands just behind the Winchesters, his eyes fixed on the young family. “I just thought you’d want to see.”
Mary is singing softly to Sam, and snatches of the song carry on the wind to where they are standing. Young Dean’s giggles ring out as he throws each ball slightly further. John applauds a ball that reaches a particularly long distance, half way between the young and old Winchesters, and Young Dean runs forward to pick it up. As he runs back, baby Sam lets out a loud wail.
“Dude. Your crying is awful,” Dean says.
The cry is angry, ripping into Castiel as they listen. Mary rocks the baby, sings louder, but he cries more. Mary calls out for John to take baby Sam, and he does so while Mary gets out a bottle. Young Dean begs for John to throw the ball again, but John tells him to wait, and Dean stomps his feet and throws the ball down.
“Your brother needs us right now Dean.” Mary speaks sternly but softly, and Young Dean kicks the ball sullenly with his feet.
“Stupid baby. All he does is cry.”
“I think he needs his big brother to help him out.” John finishes giving the baby the bottle, and hands it back to Mary before lifting Sam up to burp him.
“How can I help?”
“You want to hold him?” John doesn’t wait for an answer. He nods to the grass in front of him. “Sit here.” Dean sits down in front of John, and John places Sam in his arms.
Dean’s face is screwed up with concentration, his tongue sticking out. “He’s heavy,” Dean complains. “He’s making funny noises.”
“At least he’s not crying.”
John keeps his hands near Dean’s, but sits back, so Dean is the only one holding the baby. They all sit quietly, not speaking.
Dean’s face gradually relaxes, and he stares at the baby’s face. “He’s smiling. Look… I’m sure he’s smiling.”
“He’s smiling at his brother,” Mary says.
Young Dean leans forward and kisses baby Sam on the forehead.
“Why…” Sam turns toward Castiel. “Why are we seeing this? What’s the purpose of it?” There are tears shining in Sam’s eyes. He doesn’t bother to rub them away.
“It’s Christmas. I thought you would like to see your family.” Castiel nods toward the group. “I thought this was a good moment. There were lots of moments I could have chosen but…”
“I like this one,” Dean interrupts. “I wish I remembered it.”
“We cannot stay,” Castiel says. He’s risked long enough. “I’m sorry but we have to go.”
“Just a minute longer..." Sam begs. He takes a step forward, and Dean puts a warning hand on his shoulder.
“Take a last look,” Castiel says, and when they have done so, he takes them back to the present before they can say another word.
They jump off the bed, looking confusedly at each other then at Castiel.
“Did that really happen?” Dean scratches his head. “Sam?”
“I saw it.” Sam steps toward Castiel. “You really showed us that just because it’s Christmas?” His voice is full of doubt.
“I believe a gift is part of your traditions.” Castiel prepares to go. He’s stayed too long.
Dean holds his hand up. “Wait.” He goes and rummages in his bag, and pulls out a badly wrapped parcel. “Here.” He thrusts it toward Castiel.
“A gift for me?” Castiel pulls the paper off. It is a tie. It's blue, with an Angel flying up the length of the tie. “You bought me a new tie?" He hesitates, wondering what he is supposed to do. "Thank you.”
“Sick of the sight of this one.” Dean flicks up the tie Castiel is wearing. “It’s a gift for us really.”
Castiel rolls the fabric between his fingers. A gift. He hasn’t received a gift before. Not like this. A warm feeling floods from his stomach, up to his mouth. He feels a smile pull at his lips. Perhaps he understands why humans follow these traditions.
***
Feedback is welcomed. Happy Holidays to you.
On that note - I had the idea for this wee fic and thought I would try and write it. Even the J2 I wrote back in August so... fic! Happy Christmas to you all. Will have an SPN/PSYCH fic before Xmas also. That is happy making, to me anyway - WRITING!
Not Store Bought
Gen. No Pairings.
2376 words.
No warnings - one swear word only!
Castiel is buying the Winchesters an Xmas present. This is not part of the mission.
Thanks to dotfic for the beta and encouragement. These characters do not belong to me.
This is not part of the plan. Castiel does not have orders to supply the Winchesters with their ammunition. He watches the man at the counter rub fat, callused fingers over a rifle. The man picks it up, his large stomach bouncing against the counter, and he pretends to shoot the rifle into the air.
Castiel wonders what the rifle is for. Hunting, maybe. Small wildlife. For sports.
Castiel doesn’t understand humans and their ways. Their sports. The things they do for fun. Especially when they involve killing. Killing should be carried out for a higher purpose than sport.
He suspects Uriel might not always agree.
The man nods, placing the rifle back down onto the counter, and Castiel waits further while the store clerk counts out ammunition, several small boxes of death placed in a neat row.
Castiel pushes his hands further in his pockets, turns 360 degrees, searching the store for anything to watch other than this man with his pudgy fingers buying his gun. The streets outside the store are full. This is the only store that is empty of people. The street outside is bustling, shoulders banging into shoulders, bags catching bags. Full of people doing Christmas shopping. Full of people buying gifts.
Castiel does not have orders to be giving the Winchesters a gift. He is not certain what he is doing here. Castiel dislikes not being certain. He hates the swell it causes in his stomach, the bile that reaches up to his mouth, the sense of being lost.
They need ammunition, and weaponry, Castiel reasons. They need it for the higher mission. He is helping his own orders, in the long run, by being in this store.
The man jokes with the store clerk about the "larger game" he can get with the rifle. Castiel continues watching the street, his eyes landing on a small child tripping along, small red bag in one hand, the other clutching her mother’s earnestly.
Castiel leaves the store and breathes in the cold air outside. He can smell bread, but cannot see the store that must be baking it. He stands with his back to the store, letting the crowd outside pass by him. He is separate from it. Even if he plunges into the middle of it, none of the crowd will touch him.
Castiel should leave and give up this plan to shop. He doesn’t. He plunges into the crowd and follows the family with the small child. They have been shopping a while, but the child is still smiling, and not tired. He wants to go up to them, to ask them why they join in this tradition that is based on pagan rituals, even though they purport to believe in Christ. He wants to understand why they act this way.
He remains where he is, a safe few meter gap behind them.
The family stop by a stall, and the mother lets go of the child’s hand to reach in her purse so she can buy them all a snack. The father immediately picks up the child, leans her into the stall so she can pick her own cookie to eat. The child’s face lights up. Perhaps this is following Christ’s orders. Perhaps this is all some demonstration of Goodwill.
Castiel follows them as they leave the stall.
He ends up standing in a large store that sells all manner of goods. He loses them near the entrance, and wanders into the aisles and aisles of goods, all purporting to have ten percent off or two for one specials. ‘Beat the Crunch and Get More Munch’ a sign exclaims in front of a display of cheap holiday cookies. ‘Get more for YOUR family at Christmas’ cries another, in front of a display of chocolates, and Castiel doesn’t understand why you wouldn’t get more for someone else’s family.
The gifts seem largely pointless to him. Candles that smell like flowers. Plastic toys that will break the second they are touched. Sweet foods that nobody needs to eat unless they want a heart attack.
People are buying them in droves. A few gifts appear to be useful - one section has something called ‘executive toys’ and Castiel supposes that relates to a job. Overall though, he decides he was right not to buy ammunition as a gift.
He will buy them something useless.
He wanders the aisles, past lotions and perfumes, and ends up standing in front of a section of CDs. Dean likes loud music. Castiel has heard it in the car. Dean appreciates loud music that appears to have no tune, and to be full of people shouting. None of the music is labelled this way, unfortunately. He tries to remember band names Dean has said, but fails. The CDs Castiel believes would contain loud music all appear to have titles worshipping Satan, and Castiel draws his hand away from even touching those.
Not a CD for Dean then. He wanders on, looking around him for a gift that says Sam. Sam is harder. If Castiel is stuck, he will buy Dean food of some kind, unhealthy looking food, and he is sure Dean will appreciate it. Sam…
Castiel is not sure of Sam. Dean would not like it if Castiel did not buy Sam a gift, Castiel suspects. Castiel therefore finds himself examining the socks, wondering if Sam is a days of the week or a reindeer sort of man. Sam might want to keep track of days of the week, on the road, passing through one town after another. How does he know which day it is?
Castiel walks around the rest of the store with the pack of socks in his hand, looking for something better.
The music being piped into the store is loud, with many bells jangling. The store gets hot the more Castiel walks around it. His tie feels tight around his neck. He picks up some candy for Dean, and gets to the counter and stands in line.
Next to the counter are rows of more gifts. Red hats. Candied items of all descriptions. A nativity scene painted crudely onto a plate.
The couple in front of him argue loudly about whether they need a present for Great Uncle Somebody. The girl wants to buy candy. The man argues they’ll give him a heart attack. He calls him a "miserable bastard" that doesn’t deserve a present. The girl hits him on the arm.
Humans. They’re all here, in this store, arguing, getting stressed, spending money on useless items. He wonders how many of them believe. If he said he was an angel, would any of them believe the truth? Would any of them sacrifice…
Like Dean has sacrificed.
The couple come to some agreement, the man putting his arm around the girl, picking up a candy and offering to buy it for her as a peace offering. Her face lights up, she giggles, leans up and gives him a kiss on his chin, then his nose, before finding his mouth.
Gifts mean more when accompanied by an emotion then.
Castiel dumps the socks and candy next to the nativity plate. He heads for the boys’ motel room. He can give them a better gift.
They are awake when he gets there, watching a film on television. They are laughing, catching each other’s eye often.
Castiel stands outside watching them. He doesn’t want to disturb their evening together. They may deem it inappropriate for him to give them a gift and it will not be any better received after an interruption.
They go to bed and Castiel is still outside, the cold now so biting he wishes he were not in this human body with its thin protection. Now he isn’t disturbing their evening together, he feels able to creep into the room. Dean has his face pressed into the pillow, his hair attempting to reach every corner of the room. Sam is lying on his side, worry on his face even in sleep.
Castiel wakes them both.
“What the…”
“Castiel?” Sam scrambles out of bed, rubbing his eyes.
Dean merely sits up. “Dude. What is it now?”
“Are we… sleeping?” Sam pats his body several times.
Castiel beckons to Sam. “Come closer. I need to do this to you both at once.”
“Do what?” Dean narrows his eyes. “What are you going to do to us?”
“Give you your Christmas present.”
“Man, dirty. I didn’t know you swung that way.” Dean laughs, his teeth bared. He and Sam exchange glances.
Castiel suppresses a sigh. They take so little on trust. “I want to show you something. You’ll want to see it.” He meets Dean’s gaze. “I promise.”
Dean gives Sam a nod, and Sam creeps closer, sitting on the bed next to Dean, between Dean and Castiel. Castiel reaches out, touches both their foreheads.
The three of them are standing in a park. It’s a bright sunny day. There are the cries of small children floating to them on the breeze.
“What the hell?” Sam makes a sweeping motion with his arms, gesturing towards the trees, the pond, the playground, then restrains his arms to his side. Sam’s movements around Castiel are always careful.
Castiel doesn’t entirely trust Sam either.
“Fuck. You McFly’d us again. Didn’t you?” Dean steps forward, surveying the park quickly, before turning back to Castiel.
Castiel nods. “You must be careful not to be seen.” They both hear the threat in his tone, and first Dean, then Sam, give a nod of agreement. Castiel raises his hand and points to a corner of the park. A young family are there. The mother, her hair gold yellow, sits holding a baby, while the dark-haired father attempts to teach the older boy how to throw a ball.
“That’s…” Sam loses his words on the air. “Is it?”
“Mom and Dad.” Dean affirms. “And that’s you.” He nods toward the baby before whirling around to face Castiel. Dean blinks like the wind is bothering his eyes, and he swallows. “Is there some… we’d better not be here ‘cause you’re showing us something freaky. If Azazel shows us here, then… tell us why we’re here.”
“Just to watch.” Castiels tands just behind the Winchesters, his eyes fixed on the young family. “I just thought you’d want to see.”
Mary is singing softly to Sam, and snatches of the song carry on the wind to where they are standing. Young Dean’s giggles ring out as he throws each ball slightly further. John applauds a ball that reaches a particularly long distance, half way between the young and old Winchesters, and Young Dean runs forward to pick it up. As he runs back, baby Sam lets out a loud wail.
“Dude. Your crying is awful,” Dean says.
The cry is angry, ripping into Castiel as they listen. Mary rocks the baby, sings louder, but he cries more. Mary calls out for John to take baby Sam, and he does so while Mary gets out a bottle. Young Dean begs for John to throw the ball again, but John tells him to wait, and Dean stomps his feet and throws the ball down.
“Your brother needs us right now Dean.” Mary speaks sternly but softly, and Young Dean kicks the ball sullenly with his feet.
“Stupid baby. All he does is cry.”
“I think he needs his big brother to help him out.” John finishes giving the baby the bottle, and hands it back to Mary before lifting Sam up to burp him.
“How can I help?”
“You want to hold him?” John doesn’t wait for an answer. He nods to the grass in front of him. “Sit here.” Dean sits down in front of John, and John places Sam in his arms.
Dean’s face is screwed up with concentration, his tongue sticking out. “He’s heavy,” Dean complains. “He’s making funny noises.”
“At least he’s not crying.”
John keeps his hands near Dean’s, but sits back, so Dean is the only one holding the baby. They all sit quietly, not speaking.
Dean’s face gradually relaxes, and he stares at the baby’s face. “He’s smiling. Look… I’m sure he’s smiling.”
“He’s smiling at his brother,” Mary says.
Young Dean leans forward and kisses baby Sam on the forehead.
“Why…” Sam turns toward Castiel. “Why are we seeing this? What’s the purpose of it?” There are tears shining in Sam’s eyes. He doesn’t bother to rub them away.
“It’s Christmas. I thought you would like to see your family.” Castiel nods toward the group. “I thought this was a good moment. There were lots of moments I could have chosen but…”
“I like this one,” Dean interrupts. “I wish I remembered it.”
“We cannot stay,” Castiel says. He’s risked long enough. “I’m sorry but we have to go.”
“Just a minute longer..." Sam begs. He takes a step forward, and Dean puts a warning hand on his shoulder.
“Take a last look,” Castiel says, and when they have done so, he takes them back to the present before they can say another word.
They jump off the bed, looking confusedly at each other then at Castiel.
“Did that really happen?” Dean scratches his head. “Sam?”
“I saw it.” Sam steps toward Castiel. “You really showed us that just because it’s Christmas?” His voice is full of doubt.
“I believe a gift is part of your traditions.” Castiel prepares to go. He’s stayed too long.
Dean holds his hand up. “Wait.” He goes and rummages in his bag, and pulls out a badly wrapped parcel. “Here.” He thrusts it toward Castiel.
“A gift for me?” Castiel pulls the paper off. It is a tie. It's blue, with an Angel flying up the length of the tie. “You bought me a new tie?" He hesitates, wondering what he is supposed to do. "Thank you.”
“Sick of the sight of this one.” Dean flicks up the tie Castiel is wearing. “It’s a gift for us really.”
Castiel rolls the fabric between his fingers. A gift. He hasn’t received a gift before. Not like this. A warm feeling floods from his stomach, up to his mouth. He feels a smile pull at his lips. Perhaps he understands why humans follow these traditions.
***
Feedback is welcomed. Happy Holidays to you.