It was an unusual feeling for Dean Winchester, the excited, cautiously optimistic joy, which haunted him all of Christmas morning. But then again, why wouldn't he be? It was finally time for Christmas in the bunker, and they were all gathered. Charlie, Sam, Cas… Everyone under the same roof. It was an amazing sensation, he thought, to for once be alone with just friends and family, to not be afraid of what might happen if he were to let his guard down for just a moment. It was beautiful, and that was not a word he used to describe feelings very often.
As he slowly got out of bed that Christmas day, he knew Charlie was already up. Her incessant humming of "Walking On Sunshine" by Katrina and the waves could be heard throughout the bunker, but for once, he didn't mind. He found her in the kitchen, baking gingerbread cookies.
"Don't you think we have enough of those?" Dean asked jokingly. Charlie blew air out of her nose, as if the mere question was an insult.
"You can't make too many cookies, it's not possible. Not with Sam here, at least. I never knew he had such a sweet tooth when it comes to gingerbread." She vigorously shoved cookie after cookie onto a large tray.
"Also, don't you have anything more… Christmas-y to sing?" Dean muttered, already knowing the answer to his question.
"I like this song, and there is nothing you can do or say that will make me stop." Charlie smiled towards him, her eyes glittering. If she had not been so adorable when doing it, it would have bothered the living hell out of him.
Dean grabbed some raw ginger bread dough and decided to find the other two idiots that were probably hold up somewhere in the bunker. To no surprise, they were found in the study, Sam eagerly reading a book about something that was, no question, incredibly boring, and Cas studying the record played.
"Fascinating…" he muttered in low tone. "There are so many fine inventions, I wonder what you'll come up with next."
Dean rolled his eyes, deciding against responding. The angel had made a habit of either pretending he knew nothing about the subject at hand, or actually not knowing. Dean had no idea which was worse.
Charlie had, for some reason, covered the entire bunker in tinsel and Christmas decorations, a ton of plastic angels (which Cas had been fascinated by, because "Is this how the humans view me? A small plastic figurine?"), there even was a tree. It was an amazingly green tree, one of the most emerald colored trees he had ever seen. He would never admit it out loud, but he actually liked the tree and the decorations. It was as close to having a Christmas as home as he was ever going to get.
"Time for presents!" Charlie chirped when she stepped into the study. She had, during the evening earlier, placed all the gifts under the tree. They were laid out in the corner of the study, it was a beautiful showing of their impeccable wrapping skills… Not really, Dean thought, it was a complete shit show. But as cheesy as it was: it was their shit show.
To get his mind away from the overly family-like thoughts coursing through his mind, Dean rustled Sam's hair. The gigantic man grunted, displeased, but said nothing. It had become common practice the last few days, the brothers annoying each other in the smallest of ways, more to pass time than anything else.
"Come on!" Charlie laughed. Dean enjoyed seeing her like this; the sparkle in her eyes, the bounce in her step and the light in her smile brought back something to him that he had not seen in what felt in years. Instead of being the broken Charlie, chased by both memories and threats from things around her, she was the one who was still filled with hope and happiness, glee and singing. Dean felt overjoyed that he had been part of something like that. Charlie was part of the family, there was no question about it.
Then Dean's mind was distracted by opening the gifts. From Cas, he received a plaid shirt, much like the one he was already wearing over a worn out ACDC t-shirt, the colors being forest green and black. From Charlie, the three first Harry Potter books ("They're used, but I thought you might appreciate them anyway"), and Dean was not surprised. He knew she was of the nerdy girl in the books and kept her as somewhat of a fictional mentor. The books meant a lot to Charlie, and Dean realized that her sharing the books with him meant just as much, maybe even more. A small window into the person that was Charlie Bradbury.
And of course, like every other year since they started celebrating again, Sam had got him beer. Two cans, a simple gift, but it meant so much. It made a point of how long they had been close since Sam left for Stanford, how long Dean had had his brother back, and no matter that no one said it out loud; both of them knew that the other was incredibly grateful to be back in the other's company.
Everyone thanked each other and spread out across the bunker. Charlie and Sam sat down in the study, and started playing an elaborate game of chess. For a few moment, Dean tried to follow along, but as none of the moves took less than a minute to perform he quickly lost interest in the game and cracked one of the beers.
As he slowly enjoyed his new beverage, he looked around the room. Charlie and Sam were completely consumed by their game, sometimes laughing at something Dean had no interest in hearing. Cas sat in the chair next to Dean's, staring incredibly focused into absolute nothing. Listening to angel radio, lost in his own thoughts, who knew. But whatever he did, the angel seemed like he was at peace, and peace of mind had surely been in short supply lately. All of Dean's life, to be exact.
They were a peculiar bunch, sitting in the study accompanied by I'll Be Home for Christmas, which had been placed in an old record player by Charlie sometime in between the gifts and the apparently intense game of chess. Three hunters and an angel, Dean thought, sounds like the beginning to an awful joke. But as he looked around the room, watching the faces of his family, he realized that Bing Crosby had been right: they had all made it home for Christmas.
"What's on your mind, Dean?" Castiel had turned around to look at him. His blue eyes were filled with concern, which melted away at the sight of Dean's wide, loving smile.
"Just thinking about home."