Dean kicked the hotel door closed behind him, instantly noticing that the television was turned off and the resident angel who had been watching it when he'd left earlier was now gone. He glanced at the clock on the wall. It was nearly two in the morning on Christmas day.

"Where's Cas?"

Sam didn't even look up from his laptop. "I don't know. He zapped out of here about an hour ago."

"Well, where did he go?"

"I have no idea. Bethlehem?" Sam smirked at his computer screen, and Dean shot him a withering glare.

"I'm not kidding, Sam. It's not good for him to wander off. Either way, he should be here. It's Christmas."

"Do you think Cas is even aware of Christmas, Dean? Remember his reaction to Halloween?"

"Christmas should be his thing, right? Birth of Christ, and all that?" Dean pulled out his cell and dialed the angel's number. Dean thought it was silly that Cas still carried the cheap phone around. But he said it made him feel more human. And since Cas had shown no interest in his heavenly roots since returning from Purgatory, Dean wasn't about to make fun of him for carrying that stupid cell phone.

On the other end of the line, Dean only heard Cas' failed attempt at voicemail. He turned to walk right back out the door.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to go look for Cas."

"Dean, that's ridiculous. He'll be fine. Besides, you know we need to lay low whenever we're in St. Louis. We don't have the best track record here."

"Don't care," Dean shouted over his shoulder, and he slammed the door shut behind him.

Despite not telling Sam, Dean knew exactly where he would find Cas tonight. He pulled into the back parking lot of the St. Louis basilica, a large church in the heart of the city. Dean had caught Cas admiring it when they first drove in, and it was late enough that the stragglers that had attended midnight services were gone, and the church looked mostly deserted. It was a big hulking building, one that looked more suited to Old World Europe than the American Midwest.

Everything inside was covered in gold and mosaics. There was so much empty space that Dean felt a sort of reverse claustrophobia as he walked through the domed aisles.

He found Cas sitting alone in the back pew, staring at nothing, and looking very unhappy. Dean sat down next to him.

"Can't answer your phone, Cas?"

"I understand it is considered impolite to do so in a sanctuary. Do you need me?"

"I need to know why you decided to fly away without warning."

The angel shook his head. "It is not festive conversation."

"Nothing about our lives is especially festive, Cas."

"Ever since leaving Purgatory, I-" He hesitated, and then gestured to the domes of the cathedral. "How can I have any faith left after that? I have seen the darkest sides of Heaven, and I don't think I like it. The place that I should feel safe in, the place that should be my home, isn't what I always believed it to be. And then I destroyed so much of it myself."

"You weren't you when you did that, you know."

"But Dean, part of me wonders if I'm still capable of it. We're warriors of God, remember. How much of that was Leviathan, and how much was just someone who couldn't handle the unsatisfying truth behind his home? I spent my entire existence believing what I was supposed to and following the orders of Heaven. And it turns out there is just as much corruption there as on earth. But that gave me no right to cause the destruction I did. Whether it was actually me or not. Now I'm caught between not wanting to go back to Heaven, and believing that I can't."

Dean was quiet for a while, the silence in the massive cathedral almost creating its own sound. "You know, you're always telling me that things aren't my fault, that I should quit blaming myself for everything. It's not logical to be so forgiving to me and not yourself, you realize that, right? And don't tell me it's not the same, or that I don't understand. Because I have been responsible for more deaths than I can count."

"I'm just not sure what I should believe in anymore."

Dean had never had much faith himself. Hell, he could still remember a time when he thought angels were fictional. But Cas had always been different. He needed something to believe in, and wanted to think the best of his home and his family. Dean unfortunately knew all too well that home and family aren't necessarily all they're cracked up to be.

The worst part, though, was the doubt on Cas' face. It was an expression the angel rarely wore, and its presence, tonight of all nights, was heartbreaking.

The angel leaned forward, head in his hands. Dean found his arm around him before he'd even realized it.

"Hey, Cas, look. There's nothing you can do to change any of that. But take it from me, it isn't worth it, feeling like crap all the time."

Cas sat back up halfway, tilting his head to look at the hunter who had his arm so protectively wrapped around him. There was visible concern in his eyes, and it softened his usual harsh expression considerably. Cas held eye contact for as long as Dean allowed it, before he grew uncomfortable a looked away, still not moving his arm. He looked up at the ceiling of the cathedral. "You're worried about your faith, right? Well, call me crazy, but if you were really losing your faith, you sure as hell wouldn't have come here. And you may have done some bad stuff, but you know, you've done a lot of good for a lot of people, too. Me included." Dean cast one more quick glance at him, flashing him a crooked smile, and finally removed his hand from Castiel's shoulder. "I got you something. Maybe it'll cheer you up a little. Give me your phone."

Dean held out his hand, and Cas stared at his open palm, confused, but finally he reached into his coat pocket and held out the cell phone. Dean took it and pulled something small out of his jacket, and silently attached it to the phone. He held it back out, smiling. It was a little charm, a black cord, and at the end of it, a pair of pewter wings. Cas ran his fingers over them, smiling. When he finally looked up at Dean, the hunter shrugged.

"Most of the angels I've met have been dicks, but you're one of the good ones, Cas."

"You overlook my obvious failings."

"You always overlooked mine." The hand brushed over Castiel's shoulder again. "Come on, let's get out of here." Dean stood, not moving to leave until Cas got up to follow him.

They walked out the nearest set of doors onto the front steps of the church. Dean stopped when Cas did, looking up the few steps separating them. He saw the phone still clutched in the angel's hands.

"Thank you, Dean."

"No problem, Cas. Can't have sad angels on Christmas."

He came down a couple of steps, a sort of hesitant, questioning look on his face. "How do you do it?"

"What?"

"Believe in so little. Doesn't it make you feel alone?"

"No. The couple of things I do believe in keep that from happening. And I know I'm not alone. Not anymore, anyway."

Cas closed the last few steps. He stared hard, searching Dean's expression for some sort of logic to explain his words, and found none. Dean had always been ruled by emotion rather than logic, really. "What is it you believe in so strongly that it has that effect on you?"

"Seriously? The heavenly hosts have got to start teaching you guys how to interact with regular people. I believe in you."

"But I've failed so many times."

"And you keep coming back. I figure if you can, I can. You asked what I believed in to get through the night, I told you. Take it as you will."

Cas felt an ache growing in him. The person who was incapable of having faith in God or man or even himself, had managed to have faith in him.

Dean arched an eyebrow at the confused angel, trying to figure out what was going through his head, and as usual, coming up blank.

"You okay, Cas?"

Moments later, he was being crushed by a tight and desperate embrace, with an angel's head on his shoulder and a hand clenching the fabric of his coat. After a few shocked seconds, Dean wrapped his arms around him as well. He laughed softly. It was more what Dean had been expecting in Purgatory, but better late than never. He let himself relax, almost cheek to cheek with the angel.

"I believe in you, too."

Dean pulled back a few inches, just enough to get a look at Castiel's face, finding only his usual simple earnestness.

That was when Dean realized that there might be a little more to all this than friendship. On both sides.

It was never something he'd considered. Instead, it had snuck up on him when he was too busy giving his attention to cases and monsters. Somewhere along the line, this had happened, and while it was certainly something he'd have to give some thought to, he decided it could wait.

When he stepped back, he took one small gamble, resting his hand on the angel's face for just a moment, gauging his reaction. Cas just smiled warmly.

The angel then held up the phone, glancing at the little pair of wings. "I understand that generally there are bells ringing when angels get their wings. Or am I mistaken?"

Dean grinned. "Closest you're getting to bells is AC/DC, I'm afraid."

"That will suffice."

"Let's go then. You're not going to zap out again, are you?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Good."

And as they walked back to the Impala, the hunter's arm managed once again to find his angel's shoulder.

Additional Notes: Title is from the last verse of "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen."

For the curious: I wanted to include links and/or photos here, but of course, I can't, so I'll just tell you that you should certainly go look at pictures of the St. Louis Basilica. It is extraordinary.