The Glass Vial | Chapter Nine
Chapter Nine: Christmas
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Sam wakes up to the sound of silence, and he slips out of bed onto the cool ground. He wraps a blanket around his shoulders before walking out into the hallway, and then into the living room.
It’s still dark, and the dark figure in the corner of the room startles him, hand flying to his chest as he sucks in a quick breath.
Cas looks over towards him, his eyes apologetic. “I’m sorry, Sam,” he says, voice quiet. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“No, no, it’s okay. It’s fine.”
Sam walks over to the couch and sits beside Cas. He has a book in one hand, and through the darkness Sam can just read the peeling title.
Sam huffs out a laugh and turns towards the Christmas tree, because it’s easier not to look at Cas when he says this. “Didn’t think you’d still be much of a believing type.”
“But by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace toward me was not in vain.” Even quieter, he says, “And it was what I had to do.”
The words Lucifer used to taunt at him seep through like an infected wound, and Sam feels the room drop a few degrees. His stomach feels unsettled and his vision feels like it’s beginning to blur, so he slowly breathes and counts to ten. Quietly, he recites, “And do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather fear him who can destroy both soul and body in hell.”
“He didn’t,” Cas says, and there’s such fierce certainty in his voice that it pulls Sam out if his slide back into the memories, and the words hang heavy in the air. “He didn’t destroy you.”
“Look at me, Cas,” Sam says. His left hand goes to the wristband on his right wrist and he fiddles with it. “I think he did a pretty good job.”
“No,” Cas says, and Sam feels like he wants to tear away from the certainty in Cas’ eyes, but he can’t. “I’m the one who did this to you.”
“You broke my wall. That’s all. And you saved me from Hell, even if you did do a piss-poor job of it.”
“You don’t have to fear him anymore,” Cas says, quiet, and Sam can tell he doesn’t believe the words that are coming out of his own mouth, just like he can’t accept the forgiveness that Sam is willing to offer.
“Maybe,” Sam says, standing up from the couch. “And maybe not.” He walks over to the lamp and turns it on, and then pushes in the plug for the Christmas tree, and the lights begin to twinkle and shine in the dim morning light.
Cas stands up and peers between the curtains, and Sam can see the flash of blue-white as the snow falls in the dawn. A chill runs through him and he turns on the heating from the panel that sits on the wall, and walks over to the kitchenette to turn on the kettle for Dean.
He opens the fridge and sees two fresh, unopened bottles of milk there, and Sam smiles.
He’s aware of Cas behind him as we works, but Cas doesn’t say anything until he’s finished concentrating on the mugs, getting the coffee level right for each, and putting a mug of milk for himself in the microwave.
Cas walks up beside him, and says, “I don’t know why, or how you find it in your heart to allow me, but I am grateful everyday that you let me stay here.”
“I’ve already forgiven you, Cas,” Sam says, simply. Something about Cas’ words from the Bible filter back to him and he pauses on them as he moves back over to the kettle. I am what I am, and his grace towards me was not in vain.
Sam feels his heart pause and kickstart as he mulls over the words. And it was what I had to do.
“You’re human,” Sam states, and Cas looks towards him with curious eyes. “You gave up your grace,” he continues, as the words begin to click into place. “You gave up your grace to fall.”
“No, Sam,” Cas says, softly, taking over from Sam as the kettle begins to whine at them. Sam takes a step back and watches as his hands do the things that no angel is meant to do, something so ordinary that contrasts so much with the Castiel they met four years ago. “I fell so I could give up my grace. I had a purpose.”
“Why?” Sam chokes out, but he already knows the answer, in the form of small, glass bottles with shiny, silver liquid.
“It was something I could do. I can’t fix it, but it helped. A little.”
“Thank you,” Sam says, feeling overwhelmed.
“You’re family,” Cas says, watching him. “I did it for you and I did it for Dean.”
“I should tell him. You’ve got to tell him, Cas,” Sam breathes out.
Cas looks over at him sadly and shakes his head. “It’s not important,” he says.
Sam’s ready to argue about that, to grip Cas by the shoulders and try and scream some self-worth into him, but he’s battled long enough about that with Dean, and he knows it’s a losing one. There’s the sound of footsteps behind them and Dean walks into the room, shirt crumpled and trousers slipping down to his hips as he walks towards them with a grin.
“Up early to see if Santa visited?” he asks, stepping beside Cas and taking over to make the coffee. The microwave pings and Dean gets the mug of milk out and places it on the side.
Dean watches as he pours the boiling water into the two mugs and hands one to Cas when he’s finished, oblivious to the discussion they were having only moments ago.
“Merry Christmas,” Cas says, blowing over the rim of his mug.
“You too, Cas,” Dean says, and then looks over at Sam with a smile. “You good, Sam?”
“I’m good, Dean,” he says, and smiles. It’s convincing enough for Dean to accept it, and they all sit down on the couch and drink their respective drinks as Dean tells him of his dream that involved three naked women and a polar bear. Sam watches him, fond, and watches as the lights of the Christmas tree fade and reappear in time with the falling snow.
***
They wait until Bobby’s arrived before exchanging the gifts, and Dean watches as Sam realises why when Bobby walks in, a sour expression on his face, as he carries the wrapped up bird cage.
“Welcome, humbug,” Dean says, already feeling the generous amounts of eggnog he’d consumed.
Bobby shoves the bird cage at him without saying anything and Dean takes it with a grin. He turns to Sam and gives it to him. “Merry Christmas, little brother.”
Sam carefully takes it and places it gently on the floor. The rate at which he unpeels the paper is almost painful, but Dean bites his tongue just for the sake of seeing Sam’s expression when he opens it.
“You got me... you got me a bird?” Sam says, stunned. It’s a second-hand bird from an elderly couple down the street from Annie’s, only a couple of years old, but from Sam’s reaction it could be worth millions.
“Thank you,” he chokes out, and Dean feels himself almost blush.
“Just a bird, Sam,” he mumbles, but then he’s got an armful of oversized little brother and Dean wraps his arms around him, returning the hug, and Sam pulls back, smiling.
“Man, thank you.”
Dean pulls back, rolling his eyes, but feels pleased that he managed to find something that obviously meant a hell of a lot to the kid.
“Here,” Sam says, still smiling, and pulls something small out of his pocket and holds it out to him. It’s wrapped in pink paper, and everyone’s silent as Dean takes it and starts to tear apart the messy wrappings.
When he sees it, he feels his heart almost stop.
“Fuck,” he whispers.
He can see Sam and Bobby share a worried glance out of the corner of his eye, but he can’t stop staring at it.
“I, uh... If you don’t...” Sam is muttering, Cas is watching curiously, and Bobby is drinking from his eggnog, when it finally clicks what Sam is trying to say.
Dean looks up at him, doesn’t bother trying to hide the emotion in his eyes, and smiles at his brother.
“Thank you, Sam. I love it.”
Sam smiles back, relieved, and unclasps the necklace, putting back on the amulet that he threw in the bin in that dingy hotel all that time ago.
“I can’t believe you kept it,” he says, picking it up and staring at it as it hangs around his neck.
“I picked it up and kept it at Bobby’s. It’s only luck really that it was still there. I mean, I’m glad you like it.”
“I do,” Dean says, softly, and Sam smiles at him again.
“Alright, then,” Bobby says, and stands up. Dean stands up with him and Sam and Cas watch curiously.
“Okay, so this is more like a present for the two of us, well I guess the three of us, now,” he says, glancing over at Cas, and his eyes widen, like he can’t quite believed the words that are coming out of Dean’s mouth. Then he’s smiling, and Dean turns away, feeling constricted but happy that Cas understands what he’s saying, that they’re at least okay, and clears his throat. “Bobby helped a lot, so I guess it’s more from Bobby than anyone else.”
“Just stop babbling and tell them, you idjit,” Bobby says, rolling his eyes.
“We have a house,” Dean blurts out. Sam’s eyes widen, and it’s almost comical next to the stunned expression of Cas, so Dean soldiers on, and feels the words get stuck in his throat, “I mean it isn’t huge or anything and it only really has two rooms because when we were looking it was just for me and Sam, but Cas, I’m sure we can change the office into your room, and it’s bigger than this one.”
“Thank you, Dean,” Cas says, and it’s so earnest and grateful Dean feels all the words dry up and he just nods.
“A... a house?” Sam says, voice quiet. “Dean we can’t afford a house.”
Dean grins then and gives a little shrug of his shoulders. “It’s already been bought, man. We’re living in it whether you like it or not.”
Sam still looks lost and Cas is staring at Dean like he’s the eighth wonder of the world, and Bobby is mumbling something about idjits beneath his breath, but it’s the best Dean has felt in a long, long time. He’s with his family, and they’re okay and alive. He thinks of his dad, and his mom, Adam, and feels a pang of loss for them. At the same time, he can breathe easy, because this is the road to recovery. He makes a self-promise that, if Sam recovers another for one last hunt, that they’re going to save that one last family member that means something to them.
That evening they sit around the kitchen table and they eat Christmas dinner, while Cas tells them about the birth of Jesus and Bobby stares at him like he can’t decide whether to be impressed or hit him around the head. Sam talks to his bird and runs through a list of names, and although Zeppelin would have been the best, bad-ass name, he settles on Esau, after Cas suggests it.
The name means brother, and it means skilled and adventurous hunter. Sam smiles at Dean when Cas says it, and Dean shrugs it off with a little smile.
At the end of the evening, they surprise Bobby with a basket full of Jack, Jim and Johnny, and Dean gives him a new colt. Dean tries to ignore the look of suprise in the old hunter’s eyes, and settles with helping Sam light the Christmas pudding.
It’s been a long journey getting here, and an even longer one to come, Dean’s sure. They’ve fought demons and devils and spent more years in Hell than they have alive. It’s taken one fallen angel, one old, alcoholic hunter, and one brother who’s buckets of crazy, to get Dean to realise that he’s more than just the hunter his dad made him be, and that he can be happy, and that he deserves it.
Dean toasts with the rest of them, to health, happiness and family, and realises that he’s already got everything that he needs.
End.
Epilogue | Masterpost