A/N: Several people on Ao3 begged for a sequel to "Blight." This is what I came up with. It's not a strict sequel in plot with the Lucifer angle, but Cas has his wings back. And it seemed a good place to add some Christmas feels.

Huge thanks to Miyth; our discussions always help give me insight into our beloved characters, which were invaluable for my first time writing Mary. Also thanks to 29Pieces for beta reading. ^_^

Disclaimer: Supernatural isn't mine.

"Belonging"

Castiel's wings snapped taut, each massive appendage fanned wide to catch the prismatic currents as he sailed through the aurora borealis. Indigo, jade, and periwinkle rippled across obsidian feathers. He banked sharply, folding his wings as he dove into a spiral toward the earth, only to pull back at the last second and shoot right back into the star studded sky. Exhilaration lit every nerve ending on fire. Castiel hadn't felt this strong, this pure, in a long time. To have his wings back, his grace restored, after everything…it was a miracle. One delivered by an evil witch whose son was the King of Hell, but they were all allies at this point. And Castiel was too exultant to care.

He twisted midair again and angled up to crest the edge of the stratosphere. It had been so long since he'd been able to touch the stars.

But that was enough self-indulgence for now; he was actually on a mission. Turning south, he zipped through the ether to land in New Hampshire. A light snowfall was dusting the street in white powder. Christmas wreaths decorated each streetlight in alternating shapes of red poinsettias and golden bells, and multi-colored lights twinkled from the awnings of storefronts.

Castiel concentrated his senses. He knew Mary was somewhere in New Hampshire, as she'd last told Dean, and since Castiel hadn't branded her ribs with Enochian warding, she would be easy to track down.

He took wing again, landing an instant later on a sidewalk a few towns over, right in front of Mary as she strolled down it. She startled violently, the large paper bag in her arms slipping free as she jerked a hand toward her belt, presumably for a weapon. Castiel lunged and caught the bag before it could smash on the concrete.

Mary sucked in a sharp gasp, one hand pressing to her chest, the other gripping the hilt of an angel blade in her waistband. "Castiel."

He gave her a remorseful look. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you." He'd forgotten how just 'popping in' could have that effect. He needed to be more mindful now that he had his wings again.

Mary shook off her daze and released her grip on the weapon. "Where did you come from?"

He handed her bag back. "The North Pole." At her incredulous look, he figured he hadn't actually cleared up her confusion. "I flew," he amended, guessing her question had been more about how he'd gotten there.

Mary frowned. "I thought you couldn't fly."

"My wings were recently restored."

"Oh. Congratulations."

Castiel nodded because that was social protocol, and after a beat of silence passed, he said, "It's Christmas. That's a time for family to be together."

Mary's expression became hooded. "I know. I've thought about it every single day, every time I see young couples with their children out shopping, or playing in the snow." She let out a stifled laugh. "Actually, that's just what I imagine I see. The truth is most everyone is absorbed in their electronic devices now." Her face turned wistfully sad. "But I remember what it was like."

Castiel shifted his weight. "I can take you to see Sam and Dean."

Mary looked over sharply, seemingly taken aback. "Oh, I don't know," she hedged. "I've missed so many years, so many Christmases with them. I'm not sure it's a good idea to disrupt that part of their lives right now."

"You are a part of their lives," Castiel insisted. "And they would want you to spend Christmas with them."

Mary appeared hesitant, and Castiel waited patiently.

"Um, this flying thing…?"

"It's perfectly safe," he assured her, then frowned. "Though, Dean has mentioned some constipation side effects in the past. It was difficult to tell whether he was being serious or exaggerating."

Mary's lips quirked. Then she squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. "Okay, let's go."

After coming back from the dead into a world that was strange and futuristic by her standards, flying with an angel was surprisingly not that weird. It was more like a puff of air and the ground dropping out from under her feet, but before she could fully panic, it was back under her again, the echo of wingbeats in her ears.

Mary swayed as she reoriented her center of gravity. Castiel's hand on her arm continued to support her, and she gazed around at the familiar underground bunker her children called home.

"Cas, is that you?" Sam called as he came in from the hall. He pulled up short, mouth dropping open in surprise. "Mom."

She offered him a small smile. Sam hadn't stayed in contact with her as much as Dean had after she left. Not that Sam was holding a grudge or didn't want anything to do with her; she knew that he actually understood what she was going through and was trying to give her space. It both warmed her heart and made it ache, because the baby she'd last seen as something to protect was the one protecting her.

"Sam?" Dean's voice wafted in from the hall, and a moment later he entered. The look on his face was no less stunned. "Mom."

"Hi, Dean," she said, offering another smile. They had slowly been repairing the rift she'd caused when she left, or, more accurately, slowly getting to know her grown son, since how could one damage a relationship that didn't actually exist? Most of it had been trivial types of bonding—playing word games over the phone, superficial questions like 'how was your day?' It was good, though. Mary just didn't think it earned her a place in their Christmas holiday.

"Um," she continued. "Sorry to drop in unannounced…"

"No, of course," Sam said quickly. "You're always welcome here." He flashed a questioning look at Castiel. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," Mary assured him. "Everything's fine."

"It's Christmas," Castiel spoke up. "Families should be together."

The boys still seemed a little off balance, so Mary lifted her bag of takeout that was still in her arms as an offering. "I have Chinese, though that's not really a Christmas dinner."

"Oh." Sam finally moved forward, hands out to take it. "That's okay. We usually eat takeout on Christmas anyway."

Mary blinked. "You do?"

Sam and Dean exchanged a look of discomfort. "Well," Sam started to explain. "Before we found this place, we were always on the road."

Mary opened her mouth to fill in that blank with "hunting?" but stopped herself. She still couldn't believe that her John would raise their boys to be hunters. But even more than that, had they grown up on the road, without a place to call home, a place to stop for one day and have a real Christmas? How could John ignore even that? The two of them used to decorate the Christmas tree together, and she would bake snickerdoodles which John would devour like a cookie monster. And with his mouth full of crumbs, he would stomp and growl and chase little Dean around the living room.

Mary glanced around the bunker; there was no sign of a single Christmas motif. No decorations, no tree. Now her boys had a home, but they didn't fill it with Christmas cheer, because they hadn't grown up believing in it.

She shook off the melancholy memories and forced a bright smile onto her face. "Well, are you two hungry?"

"Uh, yeah, famished," Dean said hesitantly, and they started toward the kitchen.

"Have fun," Castiel said, causing them all to turn around.

Mary furrowed her brow in confusion. "You're leaving?"

"Don't worry, I'll return to take you back to your motel in New Hampshire."

"What?" Sam sputtered. "Come on, Cas, stay."

Castiel shifted his weight. "This does seem like a family affair."

Dean leveled a stern look at the angel. "You're family too, remember?" But then he hesitated and cast an uncertain look at Mary, as though if she said so, they'd let the angel leave.

Mary turned to Castiel. "Do you have somewhere else to be?"

He rolled his shoulder awkwardly. "Well, I thought I might fly across the North Pole again…"

Mary didn't know much about angels, but she was good with facial cues and body language, and Castiel looked poised on the edge of indecision.

"Stay," she decided.

He still seemed tentative, but nevertheless nodded. "Alright."

The four of them headed into the kitchen where Sam started unpacking the takeout containers and Dean went to the cupboards to retrieve dish ware.

"Sorry we don't have anything festive," Dean said. "If I'd known you were coming, I would have gotten all the fixings for a Christmas dinner." He looked so tense as he set out the plates and silverware, and Mary realized just how much her eldest son, even after all these years, seemed afraid of being a disappointment.

"Cooking Christmas dinner is actually a lot of work," she said as she took a seat at the table. "I would slave away for hours in the kitchen with my mother while the men watched football."

Sam grinned at his brother. "Dean's not a bad cook."

Mary kept her surprise off her face. She wouldn't have guessed that, given their upbringing. "Really?"

Dean shrugged, appearing embarrassed.

Mary smiled to herself and started dishing out some chow mien. "Do you want some, Castiel?" she asked, noticing how he just sat in the chair beside her, hands folded in his lap and not moving.

"No, thank you," he replied. "I'm afraid it would just taste like molecules."

"That's too bad."

"Yes," he said. "I do miss the taste of food. It was one of the few pleasures of being human."

"You were human?" she asked incredulously.

"For a short time," he replied.

"It's a long story," Dean broke in, gaze fixed on his plate as though he wanted a different subject. Mary could always ask Castiel later.

"So," she began hesitantly. "Do you two have…any Christmas traditions?"

Sam and Dean exchanged another look.

"Uh, not really," Sam admitted. "Were there any traditions we used to have? Before…you know."

Before her death changed their lives forever.

She pushed that despondent feeling aside. She was here now, with her boys.

"Well, we would open presents on Christmas morning. John would always put a pair of socks and mittens in the stockings. Oh, and we would hang candy canes on the tree, but Dean always stole them off to eat them."

Sam laughed, and Mary beamed at the memory. Dean's cheeks flushed.

Castiel abruptly stood up from his chair. "I'll be right back." Then there was a puff of air against her cheek, and he was gone. Mary stared at the empty space for a prolonged beat.

Dean shook his head and grumbled, "Now that Cas has his wings back, he's always gonna be flitting off again."

It certainly did take some getting used to…

"How long have you known Castiel?" Mary asked.

Dean shrugged. "A while."

Sam leaned back in his chair and lifted his brows. "Wow, it's been eight years," he said in disbelief.

Mary paused in wrapping her fork around her noodles. Eight years. Dean was only four when she died. Castiel had been in her boys' lives longer than she had.

"So he's been like, your guardian angel, for that long?"

Sam's face cracked with a small smile, while Dean let out a soft snort.

"We've had our rough spots," her oldest said. "But Cas is our friend. He's…" Dean hesitated for a fraction. "He's our brother, really."

Mary remembered Castiel not too long ago saying he wasn't sure he fit, which didn't mesh with what she was hearing. She set her fork down. "Have you ever told him that?"

"Yes," Dean said with a hint of a scowl. Then he shrugged it off as though it didn't bother him. "Cas has always been his own person, though, and does whatever he wants."

Mary looked back on how much cajoling it'd taken to convince the angel to stay for Christmas, but not because he didn't want to be here. It sounded like Castiel often took off, and that Dean resented it, thought the angel was flighty and apathetic. Mary doubted that, however.

She picked up her fork to take another bite, only to remember another Christmas tradition. "Oh, when I was growing up, we always watched Miracle on 34th Street on Christmas Eve."

Sam shot her a dubious look. "What, really?"

She hesitated. "Why, is that an uncool movie now?" It was a classic in her time. She had to stop thinking like that, though. Now was her time, and she needed to acclimate to it.

"Oh, no," Sam replied. "It's just…the Campbell's had traditions? Even though they were hunters?"

"Of course," Mary responded before thinking. Of course, Sam and Dean hadn't grown up the same way she had; even though she'd also been raised in this life, their experiences had been vastly different.

She softened her tone. "We still had a home, and took a break from hunting to spend Christmas together." Mary hesitated. "John didn't…with you…at all?"

"Dad did his best," Dean was quick to defend. "He kept us on the move a lot to keep us safe."

Mary didn't think keeping two young boys on the move and living out of motels was any way to keep them safe. The way Sam's face soured, he seemed to agree.

Sam cleared his throat and turned back to her. "I'm just surprised. I never imagined a hunter family having a normal life like that."

Mary dropped her gaze to her plate. "I never wanted this for you," she breathed out before she could stop it. She wanted to hate this version of John for what he'd done, like he was some alien that had come in and snatched her husband's body, because he sounded nothing like the sweet, thoughtful man she'd married.

Tense silence fell between them, and Mary realized with a pang that she'd cast a pall over Christmas. It seemed inevitable, every time she was around Sam and Dean. Because there was so much history, so much baggage—theirs and hers—and she didn't know how to navigate around it.

A loud thud came from the library, and Sam and Dean were instantly on their feet. Mary surged out of her chair to follow as they strode into the study area to investigate. The boys stopped short and stared dumbly. Castiel had returned, and he was holding a lush, six-foot pine tree in one hand and a box of candy canes in the other.

"I thought perhaps you could continue your traditions," he said.

Mary felt a smile tug at her cheeks, and she stepped forward. "That's a great idea, Castiel." She glanced down at the bottom of the tree and spotted two crossed planks of wood that would hold it up. Good, because she was fairly certain her boys didn't have a tree pot in this place.

She walked over to the space between two short bookshelves. "How about right here?"

Castiel carried the tree over, leaving a trail of pine needles as the branches swished. He set it down, and Mary asked him to rotate it a few inches so the best side could be facing outward. Then she took the box of candy canes from him and started to rip it open. She looked over at Sam and Dean.

"Are you two going to stand there and watch or come help?"

They jolted out of their daze and came forward. Mary took a handful of candy canes to give to each of them, including Castiel. He blinked at her dubiously, but she didn't give him time to even attempt a protest, and moved away to start hanging her bunch on the branches. Castiel did watch them for a minute before he stepped in to try it himself, somewhat nervously.

There was a crinkle of plastic, followed by a crunch.

"Dean," Sam chided.

Mary peeked around the tree to see Dean with a candy cane in his mouth.

"What?" he retorted. "I thought we were going for tradition?"

She bit back a smile and finished hanging her last 'ornament.'

"Hey," Sam exclaimed. "We can pull up Miracle on 34th Street on Netflix. Get the projector out and set it up in the library with the couch."

Dean pointed a finger at his brother. "Great idea. Cas, help me get the projector."

"I'll get my laptop," Sam said, and the three of them hurried off.

Mary cocked her head at the tree. It was rather plain without any lights or other ornaments, yet somehow it fit with the antiquated decor of the bunker.

The boys came back and set up a projector. Mary almost made a joke about them being old, but decided against it. She was still having trouble with the fact that her children were now older than her.

They brought in some extra chairs, and Sam disappeared to make popcorn, and then they settled down to watch the movie. As the film progressed, Mary found herself growing more and more somber. It was just yesterday—or last month—that she was sitting on her couch at home with John, watching this movie. She missed him. She missed her little boys whom she could hug and hold tight to her bosom, two precious, tiny little angels. She'd missed out on so much, on watching them grow, on guiding them and having a role in their lives.

But she'd been granted a miracle in the chance to get to know them now as the men they'd become. And from what she'd seen and heard, they were heroes. Her little boys had grown up to be champions for good. And she was proud of them.

The movie ended and the credits began to roll. When no one moved, Mary looked over to find that Sam and Dean had fallen asleep on the couch. Sam was slumped over the corner, his long legs sprawled out in front of him, while Dean was in the middle with his head thunked all the way back against the top of the sofa.

Shaking her head in amusement, Mary slowly rose from the other end and tugged a blanket off the back of the couch, which she then draped over both boys as best she could. She picked up the remote and shut the television off. When she turned around, she spotted Castiel in the chair on the other side of Sam, chin slumped forward against his chest and eyes closed. A smile tugged at her mouth. She went around to get a second blanket from the cupboard, and gently laid it over him as well.

Castiel stirred at the movement, eyelids fluttering open as he gazed up at her in confusion.

"I thought angels didn't sleep," she whispered.

"We don't," he said, then lowered his voice as he noticed Sam and Dean dozing. "But I haven't been able to fly in four years. I suppose it tired me out more than I expected."

Mary patted his shoulder. "Well, then get some rest. I won't need a lift back to New Hampshire for a bit."

Castiel gave her a knowing look, seemingly pleased to hear it. Then he closed his eyes and nodded off again.

Mary swept her gaze over the three of them, and reached out to softly brush some of Sam's hair away from his face. She was finally beginning to feel as though she might be able to find a place with them after all.

Castiel flew Mary back to New Hampshire the following morning so she could retrieve her car and belongings, but then she would be driving back to Kansas to move back into the bunker.

"I'm glad you've made this decision," he told her. "I know Sam and Dean are happy too."

"You know them pretty well," she remarked as she approached her vehicle and opened the trunk.

Castiel nodded sagely. "We've been through much together."

She canted her head at him. "You're family to them."

He smiled faintly. "They have been more of a family to me than my own brethren."

Mary pursed her mouth thoughtfully. "Then why are you still not sure you belong?"

Castiel opened his mouth to respond, but hesitated. Dean had been saying Castiel was family more often of late. "Now that I have my wings back—"

"Why would that change anything?" she interrupted.

Once again, he wasn't sure how to respond.

Mary took a step closer and placed a gentle hand on his arm. "Castiel, what makes me family to those men who are no longer boys?"

He blinked at her in stupefaction. "You're their mother. You love them and they love you."

"I hardly know them," she rejoined. "And they barely know me."

Castiel wasn't sure what he was hearing, but his pulse was beginning to flutter wildly. Was Mary changing her mind about returning to the bunker? That would crush Sam and Dean.

"But that can change," he pressed. "You can get to know each other. They want that, Mary, and I know you do, too."

She nodded slowly. "I belong because they want me there."

Castiel felt a wave of relief. "Exactly."

Mary's solemn gaze narrowed pointedly on him. "The same goes for you."

Castiel stared at her, unsure how that had gotten turned around so fast.

"They want you there, Castiel. And you want to stay."

His mouth moved soundlessly. How many times was she going to render him speechless? And how could she possibly know that… "I- "

"Even after all this time," she continued. "You're still afraid you don't truly belong. I think…I'm always going to be afraid of that, too, deep down. But I've seen it, Castiel. I know now without a doubt—we both belong there."

He didn't know what to say. He'd always felt a bond with the Winchesters, had always chosen to stand by them, to help them. Because he believed in calling them family. Things had gone horribly wrong on several occasions, though, and Castiel didn't think he deserved that honor. Maybe…maybe he was being too hard on himself.

And how strange it was that he would seem to have so much in common with Mary Winchester, of all people. Yet she was a person plucked out of the world she knew and thrust into one that was strange and difficult to navigate at times. Humanity still confused Castiel, even after eight years of mingling among them. He understood what she was going through…and so perhaps, she understood him as well.

Mary slammed the trunk closed and moved to open the driver's door. "Castiel," she said tentatively. "I know you're excited about having your wings back…but would you like to ride with me for a bit?"

Some of the tension seeped out of his shoulders, and Castiel gave her a small smile.

"Yes, I would like that."