A/N: This is from the Home in Motion universe. Reading isn't necessary, but it is recommended. You need to know is that Sam has a girlfriend named Emma and Cas and Dean have an established relationship and a toddler they adopted named Johnny. I am sorry this wasn't posted closer to Christmas, but law school consumed me. I hope you all enjoy another glimpse into this universe. Also, for a bit of pimping, if you like a bit of humor with your SPN, I manage a blog on tumblr, Texts from Last Apocalypse, combining Supernatural and Texts from Last Night. (My only plug for the site, I swear.)

As always, I don't own Supernatural and I don't profit from it.

There's No Place Like Home for the Holidays

Chapter 1

Not Your Average Hunt

"As we struggle with shopping lists and invitations, compounded by December's bad weather, it is good to be reminded that there are people in our lives who are worth this aggravation, and people to whom we are worth the same." - Donald E. Westlake, American writer.

The ghost hunt in Nebraska was pushing it a little close to Christmas, but there were some positives to being away from Sioux Falls with his brother for a couple of days. It had given them a chance to hustle a little pool last night, which would go a long way during a down season for mechanic work and help his broke, I'm-getting-ready-to-go-to-law-school brother get something nice for his girlfriend. It also gave Dean a chance to go shopping without Cas and Johnny in tow and spend a little time with his brother on what he expected to be an easy hunt. Though Sam kept assuring him they could hunt as usual, Dean knew better. He'd been reading a lot online to help him know what it would be like having his brother in law school; there were even online support groups for significant others dealing with their partners' stress and time constraints. Sam might still be delusional enough to think his life wasn't going to change once he got into law school, but Dean was prepared.

It was still morning, about an hour before the library opened and Sam could get in his geeky research. They were roaming one of those big box marts near the site of the disappearances and doing double duty by shopping and asking people questions about the strange disappearances. Dean didn't usually bother with these places because they required a membership and he never thought ahead enough to forge the card, but that Charlie Bradbury had given them fake IDs and memberships for just about every police agency, organization and state that they could think of. Now that he had sampled—literally, because they did free samples every other aisle, it seemed—the bulk shopping life, he didn't think he was ever going back. He was going to get a legitimate membership back in Sioux Falls and stock Bobby's kitchen and pantry with bulk everything. He was pretty sure he could buy enough food they could ride out the next three Apocalypses, easy.

He was now meandering down the aisles, sampling free appetizers, sports drinks and mini quiches, which he considered horribly miscast as a girly food because they were awesome. He had hit all of the tables at least once, and he knew the freebies would run out soon. It was probably time to check out, so he made his way to the shortest line at the front of the store and began setting his purchases on the conveyor belt. He'd gotten a massive tub of cheeseballs and a pie because it was there and it was pie. He'd also grabbed some toys for Johnny, just some odds and ends he didn't feel obligated to buy with Cas's presence and approval. Most importantly had been a big set of toy cars made for toddlers, which he'd had to choose carefully. The things all had faces, and some of the sets had demon cars in them that would put "Christine" to shame.

He'd also picked up an MP3 player for Cas, with all the trappings to play in the Valiant when he went on a drive. It wasn't an iAnything, but it had a three-year warranty and was a brand he recognized. It woudl be good enough to let Cas play his classical music. Bobby's place got lousy reception of the local public stations that played the stuff, and Dean had salvaged the old radio in the thing, so CDs weren't even an option.

He saw Sam wandering a little aimlessly and he actually saw the idiot starting to head for the jewelry department. "Sam," he said loud enough that it made his brother turn to face him. "She makes jewelry. Stay out of there. Nothing good will come of that."

Dean watched his big, dumb brother hesitate for a moment, go blank, panic, and then finally seem to come up with something better. He darted off somewhere else in the store, and Dean was grateful that he'd knocked some sense into him. He really didn't know what Sam was thinking even glancing at the jewelry department for a woman who handmade her own stuff from sculpting and melting on up.

He guessed that he couldn't blame him entirely, since his own thoughts had been turning to jewelry. At least, one specific piece of jewelry that was currently in the pocket of his coat. The dinged-up old ring wasn't really a Christmas gift. He wasn't even sure he'd get the nerve up by Christmas. For now, he just told himself he was waiting for the right moment.

Sam wasn't exactly quiet as his lumbering footsteps came up behind him. "So, it's okay for Cas to have this set-up in his car, but not me?" Sam asked as they were checking out.

"Wasn't your car," Dean replied as he paid the cashier. "That was Baby. And there isn't any way Cas can make that Valiant any uglier." Cas loved that weird-looking car, but Dean still liked to rag on it. "And if you're nice to him, Cas might let you use the radio jack so you can listen to your mellow rock crap when you borrow the car." If there was one plus about the Valiant coming into Dean's life, it was that Sam tended to choose it over the Impala. Cas was nowhere near as protective of it as Dean was the Impala, and it also got better gas mileage with its smaller engine. "So what did you get her?"

"New soldering gun. Hers is practically a fire hazard."

Dean grinned. Sam wasn't oblivious when it came to tools, but he wasn't exactly a mechanic or engineer, himself, so as an older brother, he appreciated that Sam's girlfriend was making him more aware of the world of tools and hardware. They both paid for their purchases while pitying the poor woman who looked like she had heard enough Christmas music and dealt with enough harried shoppers to last her a lifetime. Dean would take the monsters of Christmas shoppers.

It wasn't until they were a few feet away that Sam brought up the case. "So, get this, while I was waiting for the employee to get the soldering gun out of the locked case, I was talking to another guy in the hardware department about the ghost. He said only men had gone missing."

"You thinking a woman in white?" Dean asked as he steered them toward the in-store fast food joint near the exit.

"You're not seriously still hungry," Sam said sounding far more incredulous than he had any right to after nearly thirty years as Dean's brother. "I know for a fact you've eaten your way through this store, hitting up every sample stand in the place."

"They have giant pretzels here, plus wifi. Go get your computer while I order. You can research a little before the library opens."

Dean stood in line behind a mother with a boy who looked to be about four. The kid was raising a fit about wanting a toy that he hadn't gotten, and he looked about five seconds away from full meltdown. The mom was busy texting someone, totally ignoring the kid. It was a tactic that might have worked with some children, not indulging them with extra attention, but it was only making this one worse. Dean hoped they weren't going to be sticking around to start his day off with a headache. He knew this wasn't a fancy restaurant where strict rules of decorum applied, but he liked to think that even a big box mart wasn't exempted from common decency.

Watching this kid have his tantrum made him miss his own well behaved kid at home. He hardly registered he'd done it before he had his phone out and a text sent to Cas asking how they were getting along without him. The reply came shortly after.

We are well, though I would argue strongly with the company that claims its baby shampoo is "no tear."

Dean frowned. it got in his eyes? poor kid.

It did. I feel quite guilty, as I was the one giving him his bath.

it happens and he'll forgive you if he hasn't already.

He did immediately, which had the opposite effect. I feel guiltier. There was no time for Dean to reply before Cas sent another text, How is the hunt going?

looks like it's a woman in white. only men going missing.

Be careful, Dean. Almost as an afterthought, Cas added, And don't get tempted.

Not a chance.

"Sir?" the boy at the counter asked to get Dean's attention.

"Sorry," he said before ordering coffee for both him and Sam, plus one of the big pretzels that had been taunting him from the moment he walked into the store. Plus cheese dip because who wants a good pretzel without some cheese dip.

The mom and the screaming kid had left, and Dean was able to find a relatively unsticky table near an outlet before he settled down to text with Cas. He swore he could hear his partner's beleaguered sigh through the screen when Dean told him of his unhealthy snack. Hey, if there was one perk to dating an angel, it ought to be artery clearing.

#

This was supposed to be an easy hunt. Dean refused to let them separate because he didn't want to risk a repeat of their last encounter with a woman in white. Sam wasn't sure there was a rule that a woman in white could only attack someone alone in their car, but there was probably one that said it couldn't attack a man head over heels in love with an angel. That wasn't to say Sam wasn't in love with Emma, but he had a history of avoiding certain topics with the women he had loved in the past. He'd never told Jess about the family business, and that had caught up with him last time.

They'd driven for a few hours along the same stretch of road until they spotted a light on at a house that, for all intents and purposes, should have been abandoned. They went in, still bracing for a ghost, only to find they were mistaken.

"Hello boys," a not unfamiliar Irish voice said. "It's been too long. I've already wrapped up my card game, so there's nothing for you to break up."

Since Sam had won the last game against Patrick, and the warlock had lost his lover as a result, he didn't expect to be on friendly terms with the Irishman. He considered the possibility that he would want them dead, but he had expected the warlock to talk, if for no other reason than to demonstrate how superior he was to the hunters. Sam was embarrassingly caught off guard when he was slammed against the wall hard enough to knock the air out of his lungs. He heard his brother yelling his name as Sam was gasping for air.

He wasn't even able to warn Dean that Patrick was now speaking Enochian or to avoid the cool blue glow that moved to engulf the older brother. Sam's brain barely had time to pray to Cas before Dean was screaming in agony and the angel appeared at his side. He turned on the warlock only to have Patrick vanish into the air.

Cas looked between the space where Patrick stood and Dean now lay on the floor, obviously trying to prioritize on the fly. He spared a glance at Sam, and it became apparent that in this triage, he was the least of the angel's concerns. Sam wasn't surprised that Cas chose to heal Dean before giong after the warlock. He couldn't seem to stand Dean's pain lasting a moment longer.

The moment that Cas's hand cupped Dean's cheek, though, the hunter let out a sharp cry. "His leg was broken, is broken," Cas said as the muscle in Dean's jaw twitched as he tried not to make another noise. Dean had always been good at that, suffering in silence. "It broke the moment my Grace tried to heal him." He stared at Dean, wide-eyed and lost.

"The spell sounded Enochian," Sam supplied, "and there was a blue light." He and Castiel were both kneeling at either of Dean's sides.

"The spell must be what is preventing me from healing you," Cas said. He placed his hand on Dean's cheek again, causing the hunter to wince. The angel pulled his hand back as though burned. "That hurt." It wasn't a question, though Dean nodded his head in response. "I'm sorry. He moved his hand to the hunter's covered arm.

"If Cas can't heal you, we need to get you to a hospital," Sam said.

"Better take the Impala," Dean grunted out, as Cas's hand hovered above him. "No offense." He wrapped his arm around each of their shoulders, and the angel's arm slowly found its spot about Dean's waist, as though he was afraid of hurting him again. They were slow in getting Dean out of the house and down the rickety and half-collapsed porch on one foot without hurting Dean any further.

"Fuck," Dean swore before asking them both to wait a moment. They paused on the bottom step, waiting for the hunter to regain his bearings. "Cas," he hissed. "Do you think you can find the bastard to reverse this?" Sam was impressed his brother could managed full sentences through the strain in his voice. "Put some of your family on finding him if you need to. Can't have a witch who can mess with Grace running around."

"Get Azrael," Dean managed before allowing a cry to escape as he shifted his leg too much trying to open the passenger rear door of the Impala. SAm dared a glance at Cas, who looked a little put off at the specific call for help.

"That's probably a good idea," Sam added, trying to placate his friend. "We already know that a lot of the usual angel proofing doesn't work on her, and I bet if Patrick knows we have an angel on our shoulders, he'll ward his safehouse. I'll bet he won't know about Azrael." Cas opened the door to the Impala as they guided Dean into the rear seat. Sam winced with each grunt and shout of pain as they moved his brother back until he was against the opposite door. The car was, thankfully, wide enough to let Dean stretch his leg across the seat without being forced to bend it.

"I will get my amulet as well," the angel said. The amulet, worn by one of Cas's siblings to disguise her angel nature, was probably the safest way they could actually touch one another without Cas causing Dean pain. Though it was subtle, the two seemed to always be touching if they were ithin any priximity of one another.

"Sorry," Dean said.

"It is not your fault," Cas said before shutting the car door. Sam was in the process of opening the driver's door as he felt a hand on his arm. He saw his brother's partner looking at him imploringly.

"Sam," Cas began, but stopped as though he couldn't find the words for what else to say.

"It is not your fault," Cas said before shutting the car door. He looked like he wanted to do more, to touch or kiss as they tended to do. He saw his brother's partner looking at him imploringly.

"Sam—"

"I'll take care of him. You find the bastard who hurt him and get him to find this."

#

Azrael was not nearly as harsh in dealing with the warlock as Castiel would have preferred,but it was still appealing to see her holding him aloft by the collar of his expensive suit. "It really isn't fair," he said. "I was prepared for the angels, but not for ... that." he waved an arm in the general direction of the female angel, who Castiel was beginning to suspect wasn't entirely an angel, if at all. "How does someone avoid something like you?"

"You don't," she said as she set him on the ground in front of Castiel, "though you continue to try."

Castiel grabbed the lapels of the man's expensive suit and pulled him forcibly so that they were standing nose to nose. "You will tell me what you did to Dean."

"Or what? You plan to give me whiplash?"

The cheeky, stubborn response stoked Castiel's anger. "You will fix this! Now!"

"Would if I could, but I'm still working on the counter-spell," the man said. "And if it means anything, I'm sorry I had to use Dean as my guinea pig."

"You tested a spell on Dean without knowing what it would do?" Castiel asked, hardly able to ask questions he probably should have been in his anger.

"It might be wise to explain the why and how you did it, before Castiel rips your head off to see if your death is a possible cure," Azrael said. "And though it might resolve the imbalance you create in the universe, I'm relatively certain you didn't put death in your itinerary for today."

"I'm protecting myself against Fergus," the Irishman said.

"Crowley? Why would you need protection from him? And why would you think Crowley would deal with angels now?" Castiel asked.

"It wouldn't be a first," Patrick said, looking pointedly at him, and if he wasn't so furious with the man, Castiel might have felt a twinge of guilt at the reminder of his deal with the demon. "But I figure sooner or later he's going to remember where he came from."

Though Castiel wanted to ask what the warlock meant by that, Azrael said, "I wasn't aware any humans knew about that." She turned to Castiel and clarified, "He was a cherub."

Patrick laughed. "I knew he was an angel, but I hadn't expected he was a cupid. It's hard to picture him as a matchmaker. If he got thrown out, I don't imagine he was a very good one."

"He was bad at following orders, not at his job. Michael and some of his followers decided they were ready to start the Apocalypse a few centuries ago, but that required a little selective breeding to strengthen the line and its connection back to Cain and Abel. Michael wanted a strong vessel. It would take a few generations to make happen, but Crowley could see what was coming. He was very opposed to helping spur the Apocalypse and began pairing off the children descended from Cain and Abel to partners who would dilute the line or even end their branch of the family tree."

That meant Crowley had not only been one of Castiel's brothers, but he had protected it by delaying the birth of acceptable vessels for Michael and Lucifer. If it were not for him, Dean wouldn't exist. It was a alien feeling for Castiel to be thankful to the King of Hell.

"He knew he was going to be thrown out of heaven, so he fell and born to human parents. Or rather, as human as a century old witch and his paramour." Azrael was looking at Patrick again, and Castiel now had his answer as to why the King of Hell would want the witch dead.

"Paramour is a bit of an exaggeration," Patrick said. "It was a one-night-stand while I was visiting Scotland and I'd even used a spell to keep her from finding herself in a family way. I didn't know I'd be working against a fallen angel needing a mum. She had a husband, and it was easier for her to pawn the kid off on him. At least until the kid started announcing that this man wasn't his daddy. He tracked me down when he was a teenager, told me how his family had gone to hell because he knew his father wasn't the man raising him, but he didn't think I was, either.

"He hasn't tried to track you down since then?" Castiel asked. "Not even to cash in on your demon deal?"

"I cleared that deal back in the middle ages," Patrick said. "The demon I made it with wasn't very smart. And I have done my best to stay clear of him, but I keep hearing all this rumbling about Heaven being under new leadership, more forgiveness for bad acts and stupid demon deals. He isn't going to take that lying down for long, and I want safe from him or anyone he partners with."

"But how did you cast that spell?" Castiel asked.

Patrick reached into his shirt to show an old vial containing what was undeniably grace. "This helps to power it, and before you get pissed at me for holding on to some angel's grace, you should know it's Crowley's. I got a little suspicious that I would have a son with a story as strange as his and started looking for how that would happen. In the meantime, I have done my best to stay clear of Fergus so he doesn't get any ideas. I consider myself lucky that he hasn't seen me as a target."

"He might if he knows you have that," Azrael said, hooking her finger beneath the leather cord at Patrick's neck. Castiel took some small pleasure in the fact that the man's blood seemed to run cold at the other angel's proximity.

"I bet he would," Patrick said, swallowing visibly as Azrael set the vial back under his shirt. He began to speak, but his voice cracked and squeaked out of his control. He cleared his throat and tried again.

"Well, now that we have that settled, I suppose I should begin working on a counterspell," the other angel said.

"I agree," Castiel said.

"I don't suppose there is any chance I'll be able to do that away from you." Castiel almost felt the need to give the warlock credit for trying to wriggle away. "I promise that I will begin working on this for Dean."

Castiel grabbed the warlock's arm and transported them to Bobby's home, landing directly in the panic room. "Forgive me for not trusting you," he said to the warlock as Azrael appeared at their side. She waved a thin hand and created bindings not entirely visible to the naked eye.

"You're going to leave me a sitting duck?" Patrick asked, as he began to look around the room with increasing fear.

"Lead lined and covered in salt," Castiel said, knocking on the nearest wall. "Devil's trap above and below, Enochian sigils on each wall. Only archangels can get through, and there are only five of us.

None of us want to see you dead, at least as long as you are working on a way to fix Dean's leg."

"You mean there are only five of you on the surface," Patrick said. "If Fergus starts getting his memory back, he may not be so opposed to letting his big brothers out."

"That isn't going to happen," Castiel said. "No one is getting out of that cage."

Patrick sat on one of the chairs. "They used to say that about Houdini's tricks, too."