"Dean… please…" Sam sighed, glancing around his bed at the stack of books beside him, the nightstand with a steaming bowl of soup waiting for his attention, and then finally at his older brother, sitting on the edge of his bed and looking at him with anxious eyes. "I'm fine, okay? I don't need anything else."

"Are you sure?" Dean was studying Sam a little too closely to be comfortable, and the way his hand twitched at his side, Sam was suddenly sure that he was just barely restraining himself from applying it to Sam's forehead to check his temperature. "I mean, you've been up and around quite a bit more lately, and – and I just don't want you wearing yourself out, just now when you're starting to feel better."

The trials had taken a lot out of Sam, and those effects had not been reversed when the trials had been abandoned. They left Sam feeling weak and sick, barely able to get out of bed, for weeks following – but at least he was alive.

A few days later, he realized that he was actually happy about it.

He and Dean had had a lot to talk out, a lot to work through, and they weren't finished yet; but Sam was feeling stronger each day, and more ready to face the fight ahead of them at his brother's side.

If only Dean would let him get out of bed.

"Look," Sam sighed. "I have a dozen different books here that I've barely even looked at yet. I have this… hot soup you made, and at some point you are gonna have to explain to me just when and how you learned to cook so well, because it smells freakin' amazing, Dean…"

Dean looked away, shrugging slightly, but the smile he was trying to suppress told Sam how pleased he was with the praise.

"All I really need right now is just… a little space. Okay?" Sam admitted, apologetic, watching his brother for signs of hurt feelings; but Dean just seemed uncertain. "What's Cas doing, anyway? Don't you think maybe he could use a little company?"

"Nah, he's fine," Dean insisted, waving a dismissive hand. "He's set up with the DVD player downstairs watching every Christmas movie we own. At least somebody's getting some use out of them…"

"Right…" Sam said slowly, waiting until Dean looked up to meet his eyes. "It's Christmas Eve… I am laid up in bed and perfectly content to read my books and eat my soup and rest… and you're just… watching me read my books and eat my soup and rest… while Cas… who just got here a week ago, by the way… is sitting downstairs by himself… watching Christmas movies."

Dean just blinked at Sam, then shook his head slightly. "And…?"

"And?" Sam was incredulous. "Dean – it's his first Christmas."

Dean's eyes widened slightly with understanding, and when he met Sam's gaze again, it was with a guilty expression. He sighed. "Guess I should go… make sure he's okay…" He reluctantly rose from the bed. "Just… if you need anything…"

"I have my phone," Sam assured him, holding it up so Dean could see. "I'll call yours if I need to. In the meantime, just let me enjoy my dinner and my books, and you go spend a little time with Cas. Christmas aside – he's got to be having a pretty rough time right now."

"Are you kidding?" Dean scoffed as he headed for the door. "Safe and warm in this amazing bunker, good eats, all the movies he can watch… this is the best he's had it since…"

"Since he became human?" Sam finished, raising a pointed eyebrow. "Like, a month ago? Well… yeah. Considering he spent most of that time homeless and on the streets, being hunted by angels – I guess you could say that. Still… I bet he could use someone to talk to."

"Yeah, 'cause that's always been my strong point," Dean muttered before disappearing out Sam's bedroom door and quietly closing it behind him.

Dean found Cas right where he'd left him, parked on one of the big, puffy leather couches in the room that Dean had arranged weeks ago as a sort of den, complete with a large-screen television, DVD and Blu-Ray players, gaming system, and all manner of media to go with them. As Dean approached and sat down on the sofa next to Cas, Cas picked up the remote and turned off the DVD that was currently rolling black-and-white credits across the screen. A pensive frown creased Cas's brow as he turned to look at Dean.

"What's up?" Dean asked.

"Clarence," Cas replied – clarifying absolutely nothing.

"Huh?" Dean gave him a dubious look.

"The angel. In this movie." Cas held up the DVD case from the end table beside him, and Dean saw that he'd been watching "It's a Wonderful Life".

"Oh, yeah," Dean nodded. "It was your alias these past few weeks, right?"

"Yes." Cas nodded. "Also what Meg calls me."

Dean remembered that, too, only because Sam had pointed it out to him; but he hadn't intended to mention it. Cas didn't even know that Meg was dead yet, and he didn't think this was the best time to inform him.

"What I can't understand is why," Cas said, speculative. "Because she finds me… awkward yet amusing, or… because Clarence helped a lost and misguided soul find his way back to the right path?"

Dean frowned. That wasn't exactly how he would have described Meg, or her weird relationship with Cas. Still, he felt a strange lump in his throat regardless, when he saw the far-off, affectionate look in Cas's slightly misty eyes. "Maybe… a little bit of both?" he offered, giving Cas a teasing grin and bumping Cas's knee with his own.

Cas smiled, setting aside the remote, before turning toward Dean, his expression almost immediately thoughtful and curious again. "Why do humans celebrate Christmas as the birth of Christ, when His actual birthdate is nowhere near December at all?"

Dean blinked, taken aback a little. "I – don't really know, Cas…"

"Are they not aware that many Christmas traditions are actually rooted in pagan practice?" Cas persisted.

Dean sighed, rubbing a hand down over his face. "No clue," he admitted. "Really, Cas… I think for most people these days, it's pretty much all about the presents."

"Yes. Humans give… gifts to one another, to celebrate the birthday of a Deity… to whom they give no gifts on Christmas, and no thought on any other day of the year." Cas frowned, shaking his head slightly. "It makes no sense."

"No, I guess it doesn't," Dean laughed.

"And… the cutting of trees to be placed in one's home and decorated so that they might appear more attractive while they slowly wither and die. What is the point of this?" Cas persisted. His eyes were narrowed, and he was looking at Dean expectantly, as if Dean should hold all the answers to the string of questions he was pouring out, like a very curious, strangely articulate child.

"I don't know, Cas," Dean sighed again. "They're just… pretty, I guess. People enjoy looking at them…"

Cas considered that for a moment, looking away and nodding slowly. Then he looked up at Dean again. "Then… why don't we have one?" he asked, strangely hesitant.

"Because… well, me and Sammy…" Dean swallowed hard, feeling a strange heaviness in his chest. "We haven't really done any of that crap since we were kids. I mean, once – but you know… when you live like we do, none of that stuff seems very important, you know? We're fighting monsters, saving people…" Dean shook his head, giving Cas a smile that felt weak and sad. "Christmas is mostly for kids, anyway."

"Oh."

Cas's voice sounded far off and subdued and… a little disappointed. He looked down, picking up the DVD case again and staring at the tree on the cover, the laughing family standing around it. Dean watched him closely for a moment, realization slowly dawning on him as he finally registered the wistfulness in Cas's eyes, the curious desire as he took in the warm, reassuring scene. "Christmas is kid's stuff" was all well and good if you'd actually ever been a kid.

As Sam had said… this was Cas's first Christmas.

And he was going to spend it holed up in this bunker – warm and safe but plain and empty, no decorations, no presents, no special holiday meal – watching old movies while Dean looked after Sam, who was feeling better all the time and didn't even particularly want to be looked after.

Yeah, Dean… The voice of Dean's own thoughts sounded suspiciously like Sam at the moment. Occasionally, you massively suck.

"Come on," Dean said suddenly, rising to his feet, acting almost before he'd even fully decided what he was going to do. "Get your coat, Cas. We're going out."

"We are?" Cas's eyes were wide and confused. He stood up, then frowned, biting his lower lip. "Dean, I…" he began, hesitant, eyes lowered uncertainly. "I don't… have a coat…"

Dean was very much not okay with the way that simple statement made him feel – weirdly empty and uncomfortable, as if it was just simply wrong. For so long, Cas's coat had been so much a part of him, and now…

Dean cleared his throat, reaching out to clap a reassuring hand on Cas's shoulder. "No problem, man," he said brightly. "I'll grab you one of mine, wait here."

A few moments later, Dean returned with a worn brown leather jacket that he knew was warm and comfortable, even if it was a couple of sizes too big for Cas. That didn't seem to matter to the ex-angel, who smiled a little to himself as he carefully fastened the buttons, then looked up at Dean with bright, eager eyes.

"All right," he said with a single nod. "I'm ready. Where are we going?"

They had to go with a fairly small tree. After all, even with most of her weapons transferred to the bunker's armory, Baby only had so much space. So, the tree Dean eventually settled on was only about five feet tall, and fit nicely, angled sideways, into the Impala's trunk.

It didn't seem to matter to Cas.

His eyes lit up at the sight of the many lighted trees that greeted them when they reached the Christmas tree shop, and he didn't stop smiling, even when they left with one of the smaller options on the lot. On the way to downtown Lebanon – which wasn't much to speak of, but definitely had a few small shops they could visit – Cas kept sniffing the air in the car, closing his eyes in contentment.

And Dean had to admit… he'd kind of missed that smell. Even the tiny, frankly pathetic excuses for Christmas trees he'd managed to pilfer for Sammy's benefit as a kid had still had that familiar scent, and Dean found himself drawn back to Christmas mornings when Sammy's eyes had shone just like Cas's were shining now.

When they got out of the car in front of a small department store downtown, however, Cas's smile faded, and he looked up at Dean with embarrassed, uncertain eyes.

"What?" Dean asked, concerned. "What's the matter, Cas?"

Cas hesitated, lowering his head and confessing quietly, "I – I haven't got any money, Dean. I – won't be able to buy presents for you or for Sam…"

"Oh, please," Dean made a dismissive sound, reaching into his wallet. "What's mine and Sammy's is yours too, now, Cas…"

"No, Dean, I can't buy presents for you with your money. That doesn't make any sense…" Cas objected, his voice lowered, his expression mortified. "Don't…"

"That's what I'm saying," Dean insisted. "You, me, and Sam, Cas… we're a family. Whatever money we get, however we get it… it's ours, all right?"

Cas frowned, his head tilted slightly in obvious confusion. "Then… why bother buying presents at all? Why not just go in and choose what you want for yourself?"

"Because it's not about getting something you want," Dean explained, his voice patient as he pulled a couple of twenties out of his wallet and held them out to Cas. "It's about picking out something you think somebody's gonna like, and wrapping it up and surprising them with it on Christmas morning." He shook the money a little impatiently when Cas didn't take it. "Come on, how do you think married couples do it, with their joint bank accounts and 'what's mine is yours and yours is mine' crap?"

Cas's head tilted even further, his frown deepening, and his lips parted to ask a question that Dean was suddenly certain was going to be incredibly awkward.

"Take it," he barked, shaking the bills again.

To his relief, Cas looked down at the money and then took it from Dean's hand, swallowing visibly before looking up at Dean and speaking with an undue level of gratitude. "Thank you, Dean."

"No problem," Dean assured him. "Don't leave the store without me, okay? I'll meet you right back here in thirty minutes."

"Okay, Dean," Cas agreed, overly serious, completely earnest.

Dean watched Cas walk away, feeling an odd sense of protective affection wash over him as Cas frowned at a nearby display, absently folding and unfolding the crinkled up bills in his hand. He resisted the urge to walk over and offer advice and assistance, thinking that Cas probably wouldn't appreciate it very much. And besides, Dean had his own presents to find and purchase.

Surprisingly, within the allotted thirty minutes, Dean found the perfect gifts for both Cas and Sam. He smiled a little when he thought of their faces when they opened their gifts the next morning. In spite of himself, he found that he was starting to feel just a little bit excited.

Considering that it was Christmas Eve, thankfully, the shopping was relatively painless. Dean supposed it helped that Lebanon, Kansas, wasn't exactly a booming metropolis. The stores had been busy, but not overwhelmingly so, and he and Cas made it back to the bunker before it was terribly late. There was still time to wrap the gifts they had bought, and for Dean to begin to prepare the food he'd purchased at Lebanon's largest – and only – grocery store still open the night before Christmas.

While Dean took stock of his supplies on one end of the large library table, preparing to take them to the kitchen, Cas took out the wrapping paper and tape from one of the bags and retreated to the other end of the table where he'd set his own bag of gifts. He opened the top of it and peered inside, before looking up at Dean through narrowed, suspicious eyes. Then he sat down, folded his hands, and simply waited.

"Oh, come on!" Dean protested, unable to suppress a smile despite his outrage. "You're really not gonna let me see?"

"You said it is supposed to be a surprise," Cas stated.

"Yeah, but not even Sam's?" Dean persisted, leaving his inventory and starting around the table. "Come on, it's not like I'm gonna tell him! I just wanna see…"

"No." Cas picked up his bag and held it against his chest, wrapped in his own folded arms, watching Dean suspiciously as he approached.

Dean laughed. "Oh, great," he retorted, but his tone was light, teasing. "I can see just how much you trust me, Cas."

"With my life," Cas stated, and Dean's smile faded a little, a vague sense of awe coming over him as he realized how deeply and earnestly Cas meant those words. Then Cas added, just as intently, "But not with my Christmas presents."

Dean had just started preparing for the next day's meal – chopping onions and carrots and potatoes and measuring out spices – when Cas walked into the kitchen.

"I've finished wrapping my gifts for you and for Sam," he announced. "What's next?"

"Well, I've got a lot of cooking to do tomorrow, and I'm trying to get ready, so I'll be at this for a while…"

"Oh." Cas's voice sounded a little strained, a little disappointed, and Dean stopped what he was doing, looking up at him questioningly. Cas hesitated before venturing carefully, "When do we… place and decorate the Christmas tree?"

There was no mistaking the hopeful look shining in Cas's eyes, the anxious way in which he was shifting from one foot to the other, barely restraining his eagerness – and it took Dean back in time, to a dozen dingy motel rooms, and the look in soft hazel eyes as Dean had plugged in the single, short strand of lights and magically transformed a straggly branch into a symbol of something that they'd never really had, but could still hope for – into a symbol of home.

They had a home, now. And as it was for them, it was a first also for Cas.

"Well, I don't know about you," Dean replied at last, wiping his hands on a dishtowel and tossing it aside, "but I vote now. What do you say we get that tree glowing for Sammy to wake up to in the morning?"

The beaming smile that broke out on Cas's face made the delay in Dean's plans more than worth it.

When the tree was decorated, Cas accompanied Dean back into the kitchen, where they finished preparing what they could for Christmas dinner the next evening. By the time all the vegetables were chopped, the turkey dressed, and everything put away and ready to be put in the oven or on the stove the next morning, it was after one o'clock in the morning.

Dean glanced at Cas as he washed his hands in the kitchen sink, noting the dark circles under his eyes, the way his steps were dragging as he headed for the kitchen door. He could relate; he felt like he was about to drop, himself. All this Christmas stuff was a little overwhelming, especially when you weren't used to doing it.

"Hey," he called out softly, and Cas turned to face him.

He was visibly exhausted, but the tired smile he offered Dean was warm and sincere. "Yes, Dean?"

Dean returned his smile, crossing the room to where Cas stood and wrapping an arm around Cas's shoulders, nodding downward to his watch as he held it up so Cas could see what time it was.

"Merry Christmas, Cas."

Cas's smile slowly widened, and he looked up at Dean brightly as he understood. "Merry Christmas, Dean," he replied.

It was exhausting, yeah, Dean thought as he made his way down the hall to his bedroom. But that look on his face just then… making him actually happy he's human for maybe the very first time… that makes it all worth it…

Sam wasn't aware of falling asleep – in his bed with a book across his lap, and all the lights still on – but he awoke mid-morning, abruptly aware that it was strangely still and quiet – and Dean wasn't there.

Usually by this point Dean would have shown up with an elaborate fourteen-course breakfast, which he expected to sit and watch Sam eat, just to make sure Sam wasn't hiding any sinister signs of lingering illness. At the very least, he'd have popped his head in the door and asked if Sam needed anything. In fact, Sam was pretty shocked that Dean hadn't done that at any point the night before.

He got up, standing still for a moment to fight off the wave of dizziness that came with rising too quickly, before heading for the door, and the stairs beyond it. Once in the hall, Sam was immediately aware of the warm, delicious scent that filled the air. He smiled.

Dean's been cooking again… who knew he was so good at it?

Sam rubbed his eyes sleepily as he descended the stairs, coming to an abrupt halt at the bottom as he blinked and took in the utterly transformed library.

Tinsel and greenery lined the doorways and hung along the walls, wound together with lights – but what drew Sam's attention was the tree. It was short but full, and covered with ornaments and tinsel and brightly colored lights. Beneath it was a small cluster of packages wrapped in bright red and green paper.

"Merry Christmas, Sam."

Cas's low voice greet him, and Sam turned toward the kitchen doorway to see Cas standing there, smiling at him. There was a smudge of something white and powdery on his cheek, and he was holding a wooden spoon in one hand.

Sam couldn't resist the urge to laugh. He shook his head a little, still disbelieving of what he was seeing. "Merry Christmas, Cas," he replied at last.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean called from in the kitchen. "You keep your gigantic paws off those presents 'til we get in there, you hear me? We'll just be a minute."

"O-okay."

Sam blinked, still processing the strange scene he'd fallen into, half-wondering if he was still dreaming. He went and sat in the nearest library seat, where he had a good view of the rather lovely tree Dean and Cas had put together. He smiled, suddenly remembering his conversation with Dean the night before, and realizing just how much Dean had taken it to heart.

"Okay…" Dean came out of the kitchen, wiping his hands down the sides of his jeans, Cas right behind him. "Turkey's on. The rest can wait 'til we've done presents."

"Guys, I – I didn't get you anything…" Sam pointed out with an apologetic little half-smile.

"Don't worry about it, Sammy, you can make it up to us when you're feeling better." Dean brushed off his concerns.

As he spoke, Dean went to the tree and sat down, cross-legged on the floor. He beckoned for Sam and Cas to join him. "Come on, guys, let's do this over here," he suggested.

Sam noticed with amusement that he was barely out of his seat by the time Cas had hurried over to the tree, matching Dean's position on the floor and looking up at him with a bright smile that was somehow both anxious and expectant.

"I hope you like your gift, Sam," he said, a slight frown creasing his brow. "I've never purchased one before."

"I'm sure it's great, Cas," Sam assured him with a warm smile.

"Here," Dean placed two wrapped packages in Sam's hands, then gave Cas a little shrug. "He's got two, and you've got one – but yours is bigger," he explained.

Sam laughed as he tore into the paper and uncovered a set of carved wooden bookends in one package, and a set of new, dark green bed sheets made of soft cotton in the other.

"Your room's a little bare," Dean explained with a self-conscious little shrug. "I mean, you haven't exactly had time to get it set up how you want, and I thought… you know, with all the time you're spending in there, and… the books all over your bed all the time…"

"Dean," Sam stopped him, feeling a lump in his throat, a warmth of affection stealing over him, as he met his brother's uncertain, hopeful eyes. "I love them."

Dean smiled. "You do?" He nodded, looking down, visibly relieved. "Great. Merry Christmas, Sam."

"Here, Sam." Cas thrust the next package into Sam's hands, and Sam gave him a smile.

"Thanks, Cas." He opened the package, and laughed when he took out a clip-on reading light.

"Is it funny?" Cas frowned, visibly anxious. "I didn't intend for it to be a joke. I just noticed that you often fall asleep with your lights on while reading, and I thought… you can attach this to your book and turn out the light, and…"

"No, it's not funny, Cas," Sam assured him, reaching out a hand to touch Cas's arm and still his nervous rambling. "It's – it's perfect."

Cas looked up at him anxiously before glancing at Dean, who nodded and gave Cas a warm smile and a reassuring wink. "It is, Cas," he agreed. "You did great."

Sam couldn't help noticing the way that, although it had been Sam's gift in question, it was Dean's approval that made the worried lines on Cas's face fade into relief, his mouth turning up into a smile as he let out a shaky breath he'd been holding. The smile faded a moment later, though, Cas's eyes going large and solemn, as he picked up another package from beneath the tree and held it out to Dean.

"Merry Christmas, Dean," he stated very seriously.

Dean took the package, his eyes wide and eager as he tore into the paper, and Sam couldn't help but smile. It seemed that while the suggestion to do something, anything, for Christmas this year had been mostly for Cas, Dean had gotten into the spirit of things himself, and was thoroughly enjoying himself.

And that was before he opened the battery operated remote controlled helicopter that Cas had purchased for him. And for all the obvious worry that he'd chosen the wrong gift, a level of fear that made it seem as if he expected to be mocked or berated for his foolishness – Sam had to admit that he was just a little bit jealous that he wasn't the one who'd been able to put that elated expression of sheer, child-like joy on Dean's face.

"Really?" Dean jumped up, tearing into the box and taking the helicopter from its plastic wrapping. "You got me a helicopter!"

"Yes." Cas bit his lower lip, glancing at Sam, who couldn't help laughing a little, before looking up at Dean again. "Is that… wrong? Should I have…?"

"Is it wrong?" Dean echoed in disbelief. "Batteries included, yes!" he observed under his breath, before switching on the remote control. "Cas, it's perfect!"

Cas smiled, his shoulders falling with relief, as he nodded and explained in a hesitant, self-conscious voice, "Well, you said… Christmas is for children, and… and some of us… never had the opportunity to truly be children, so… I just thought…"

Dean stopped, lowering the remote control as his focus finally fell on Cas. Sam watched as Dean's expression softened, and he sat back down next to Cas, wrapping one arm around him in a sideways hug. Cas froze, fingers splayed at his sides as if he wasn't quite sure what to do with his hands – but Dean drew back before he had to worry about it.

"I've got something for you, too, Cas," Dean remembered, picking up the last, and largest, of the packages and placing it in Cas's lap. "Here you go, man. Merry Christmas."

Cas was, not surprisingly, infuriatingly careful with the wrapping, agile fingers seeking the places where it was taped together and easing the tape off, then finally laying the wrapping aside in a neatly folded square. Something large and black and soft was inside, and Cas stood up, frowning slightly as he unfolded it. Gradually, it took shape, and was revealed to be a black trenchcoat, very similar in style to the tan one he'd lost.

Cas's eyes went wide, and he stared at it for a long time, saying nothing.

Which meant that it was Dean's turn to be nervous.

"You know, I knew you needed one," he said, a little awkwardly. "Mine's a little big for you…"

Sam raised a single eyebrow, wondering at that statement, but Dean wasn't paying a shred of attention to him at the moment.

"… and you know, they had tan, but I figured… you're a hunter now, right? So… time to retire the holy tax accountant look, right?" Dean hesitated. "I mean… if you don't like it, we can always…"

Dean's words broke off abruptly in the next moment, however, when Cas dropped the coat and dropped to his knees beside Dean on the floor, wrapping his arms around Dean in a very awkward but intensely sincere hug, his face buried against Dean's shoulder.

"Thank you, Dean," he said, his voice even more hoarse and gravelly than usual, and Sam was pretty sure he detected a sniffle, muffled against Dean's shirt. "I – I love… it. Thank you."

Sam found himself a little tense, waiting to see what Dean's reaction would be. Since they'd found him, the Winchesters had discovered that Cas as a human was quite a bit more – emotional, than he'd been as an angel. Sam attributed it to the fact that he wasn't used to dealing with human emotions, and couldn't control them as readily as someone who'd been learning to control them since childhood. Either way, he seemed to become anxious more easily, to tear up unexpectedly at times, and – yes, to be a little more physically affectionate than either Sam or Dean was used to.

And… Dean didn't always do so well with those sorts of things.

Dean was clearly a little startled by Cas's reaction to his gift, his eyes wide and staring at the top of Cas's head for a long moment – but then, Sam saw the shocked "O" of Dean's mouth soften into a gentle, sympathetic smile, and Dean's hand raised to rest at the back of Cas's head for a moment in a gesture that was touchingly tender and protective, before sliding down around him to return the hug. Dean's eyes shone bright in the light from the tree, until he closed them, lowering his head until his lips barely brushed against Cas's hair, and his voice was hushed and thick with emotion of his own when he finally spoke.

"Merry Christmas, Cas."

And Sam found himself suddenly choked up, a little overwhelmed by all of it – the tree, the enticing smells still emanating from the kitchen, the tokens of the bonds shared by their little family that now littered the floor around the tree – and not least of all, his brother and his brother's angel, finally, finally seeming to feel safe in doing more than just skirting the edge of the unspoken feelings that had existed between them for years.

But that's fitting, isn't it? Sam thought. Because… home is where you feel safe. And… that's something we've finally got, here… all of us, together… a home.

It was the greatest Christmas gift that Sam could imagine – and it was theirs to share.