In the Giving
Summary: Dean, Sam, and Cas celebrate Christmas, and as the lights twinkle and gifts are exchanged, past mistakes are finally laid to rest. Christmas fic, no slash.
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or any characters in the story below.
Castiel stood outside the church as the crowds of people poured out of the building, some talking to their loved ones in hush tones, while others laughed as children ran ahead, knowing they would soon open the magic of a Christmas Eve under a lit evergreen tree. No one saw the angel in the trench coat in the shadows, each person wrapped up in their own lives and thoughts while leaving the shadow of the church steeple.
Later, Castiel will "celebrate" Christmas with the Winchesters, but at the moment he enjoys watching the happiness of less burdened creatures, though he knows he nor his human friends can ever have that deep peace. It wasn't in Castiel's nature to want to celebrate a human holiday, and the Winchester's normally weren't the celebratory types either, but Dean in particular had a fondness for Christmas ever since his return from Hell. He had insisted on celebrating it every year, even when the world was on the brink of destruction. It provided some semblance of happiness for him, so Bobby and Sam had gone along, even though they had never felt the need to put up a tree or cook an actual meal. With Bobby gone, Dean had once prayed to Castiel and told him that his presence was requested at a Christmas celebration, in less polite terms.
As Castiel watched the last few people trickle out the church doors, he couldn't help but envy the peace that could surround humans at Christmastime. After all, the holiday was meant as a celebration of a Savior. Castiel found a certain gladness in knowing that his father had sent a savior for humans; he just wished God could have sent one for angels too.
Dean glanced at the backseat of the Impala. Used to holding an arsenal of weapons and protection against evil, the Impala's seats were currently home to a tiny, two foot tadpole of a tree, a stack of three different pies that made Dean smile just thinking about it, and two presents, already wrapped. Dean had to admit he felt beyond a little ridiculous actually wrapping the presents, and even more so that he actually attained a present for an angel. What could a soldier of God possibly want? Still, if he had a present for Sam and demanded that Cas actually show up on December 25th, he supposed the angel could get a gift too.
Pulling into the motel parking lot, Dean lifted the pie stack with the utmost care, heralding it into the room where he had suggested Sam start untangling the Christmas lights. Said lights were now wrapped around a pile of old books that had salvaged from Bobby's house and kept with them in case of need. So far, they hadn't been very useful except in taking up space and adding to their small list of possessions. Now, they served as a makeshift light stand until Dean brought the sad excuse for a tree into the motel room. He immediately tackled the lights with purpose, and soon the two-foot tree seemed merry after all.
"What are those?" Sam asked, pointing to the two small packages, both wrapped in shiny red paper, Dean held in his hands.
"Uh, presents," Dean replied, suddenly more unsure of himself. He hastily placed them under the tree, as if doing so would make the holiday gesture less sentimental.
Sam raised his eyebrows. "You actually wrapped presents?" Sam bent down to look at them closer, "These have bows on them! You actually paid money to buy bows and then you stuck them on your presents?"
Dean glared. "Shut up, Sammy," He growled, "Don't think I won't take your present back for your ungrateful attitude."
"Fine, dude. Did you get anything else because the Martha Stewart magazine today?"
Dean grinned. "As a matter of fact, I did," He exclaimed, pointing to the pies with a triumphant look on his face, "We have cherry, we have pecan, and we have apple, the great trio."
"Ah," Sam said, "well, that'll be perfect with our eggnog." He held out a glass to the older brother, "Strong enough?"
Dean took a hesitant sip. He had a high alcohol tolerance, higher than any normal person should have, but even so, Sam took making eggnog to mean getting about ten percent eggnog in ninety percent alcohol, and it was never a fun surprise. Sure enough, it was enough to make even Dean choke a little. "Perfect," He croaked, making a note mentally to add a little bit more eggnog when Sam wasn't looking.
"So, uh, We got anything to eat besides pie?" Sam asked.
"Don't need anything else, " Dean replied, but he smiled all the same, "I asked Cas to bring dinner. Insurance. Now he has to show up, or we'll starve and it'll be all his fault."
Sure enough, there was the quick sound of flapping wings and then the angel appeared in the middle of the room, a large paper bag in his hand. He extended his offering to Dean, who made a great show over smelling the roast and hastily pushed the vegetables to the side of the table. Even though Castiel didn't need to eat, he took the plate Sam handed him as the Winchesters had once told him that they found him watching them eat disturbing, and found to his surprise he didn't mind the meal too much after all.
"Merry Christmas," Sam declared, raising his glass of eggnog in a toast.
"Merry Christmas," A chorus of two voices responded. Their glasses clinked and for a moment, all three had genuine smiles.
"All right. Here you go," Dean said gruffly, as if deepening his voice would offset the festive decorative packages he was handing to Cas and Sam.
"It's customary for humans to exchange gifts at this holiday?" Castiel inquired.
"Yeah, but we'll give you a pass this year since you've never really seen Christmas. And, you're not a human." Cas took the box with a fascinated curiosity and delicately pulled the wrapping paper apart and set it down gently on the hotel bed. He opened the box gingerly, as if it might explode in his hands. Inside was a small laminated card with a picture of Castiel and a badge on one side, claiming he was part of the FBI.
"A Fake ID?" Cas asked. He thought Dean was quite through with trying to get him to lie properly on a hunt, but apparently not.
" 'Case you hunt with us again. Can't always hide behind our badges, you know."
"Thanks." The reply was deadpanned, but that was usual, so Dean decide to take the words instead of the delivery, and acknowledged the expression of gratitude with a small nod.
Besides Cas, Sam had already begun stripping off the wrapping on the gift, letting the paper fall to the ground in the most undignified shreds. He opened the box and discovered a fairly long, well-polished silver knife. Sam had plenty of silver knives, of course, but he assumed Dean had given him this particular one for a reason, and turned the dagger over in his hands. An engraved "S.W." graced the blade.
Sam turned to Dean. "Wait. . . " He said, trying to drag up the memories, "Is this the knife you gave me right before my first hunt?"
Dean nodded and smiled slightly, trying not to look too pleased with himself. He knew how Sam had clung to that knife like a security blanket; he might not have ever wanted the hunting life, but at least if he hunted, he fit in somewhere. Dean remembered how important that knife had been for Sam, his connection to a world that didn't label him a freak but a hero. Sam had used it for years, and then it had disappeared.
"Where did you find this?" Sam asked, incredulous.
"Dad's storage locker. He must've been the one who took it, to keep it. Kept my first gun, your first knife. You know, the souvenirs every parent keeps of a childhood. So I, uh, guess I regifted you your own gift."
Sam smiled, "Well, I did the same." He handed Dean a small package wrapped not in holiday paper, but in newspaper, taped together at the last minute. Sam watched Dean nervously. Things had not been great between them lately, and even though they had put all that aside for Christmas, this gift had the potential to make things seriously worst or seriously better, depending on how Dean took the present he was in the process of opening.
Dean unraveled the newspaper, and as he saw the object laying in his hands, his breath caught in his throat. He held it up to the light to make sure. There was no way it could be it, but sure enough, Dean was familiar enough with its weight to know it was the very same. His amulet, the amulet Sam had given him all those years ago and that he had once, in a moment of madness that he later often regretted, threw in the trash.
Dean looked at Sam, and Sam gulped nervously. It was hard to read his brother's facial expressions at the moment, conflicted as they were. Sam had fished the amulet out of the trash, always hoping to give it back to his brother one day, but he had forgotten during the lead-up to the big showdown of Michael and Lucifer, and after that, every other opportune moment felt a bit anti-climatic. He wanted to wait until they were on more stable ground, but after the last hunt, Sam realized neither of them was guaranteed to live that long, so another Christmas was as good of time as any.
With gusto, Dean threw it around his neck. The weight fell easily on his neck, even though he hadn't worn the amulet in three years. He thought about how often he'd felt guilty about throwing the amulet away, and wasn't sure if he should apologize or not, but Sam hadn't mentioned it, so maybe it was better to just leave that one in the past and not add it to the weighty list of all the things he had to feel guilty about. The amulet had once been his most cherished possession; perhaps it could become so again.
"Thanks, Sammy," Dean said hoarsely, and Sam smiled, and they both knew nothing else needed to be said.
"More eggnog?" Sam offered to the other two to break the after-gift silence. Both Dean and Castiel accepted another glass, and all three drank once more to a merry Christmas. For a few moments, a run-down room in a crappy Motel 6 off Highway 12 became a place of pure peace for three weary souls who had exchanged gifts and found something more than any physical item they held. And while none were able to put a name to what they had truly received, later they would all realize what had hung in that room like a string of Christmas lights was forgiveness, and maybe even absolution.