Hey Everyone

First off, MERRY CHRISTMAS! Hope you all had a wonderful day and spent it celebrating it with the ones you love!

Second, this little AU story two shot that I have made is dedicated to one of my followers KurtWinchester! Love ya girl (in a totaly platonic, non creepy way of course) I know its a little late for Christmas but hey, think of it as either a late gift or an early New Years present ;)

Well lets not waste any more time *looks at self* why don't we just dive right in!

Warning: Story may jerk a few tears. If you're suseptible to the emotion named Sadness and do not wish this knowledge to be exposed please turn back now! All others, handkerchiefs are on your right.

Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't profit. Don't Sue (please)

It was still dark out. The sun had not yet risen to wake the sleepy American town with its golden rays, and yet a single young boy was already up. He sat on a street corner under a dark metal lamp post on a snow covered step waiting for the sun. His trousers were ripped at the knees, shoes worn and falling apart and his sock less toes peaked out behind stretched seams. The young boy wrapped his tattered excuse for a coat around him and huddled in the small amount of warmth it provided for his icy skin. A small, patched cap sat atop his mop of unruly dark brown hair and his light blue eyes watched captivated as the eastern horizon started to lighten with pale oranges and pinks.

His name was Castiel, a boy merely 12 years of age that along with his older brother had been orphaned by the deadly sickness that had spread through the area long before, only to lose that same brother to a horrible accident only years ago. Life had dealt him many low blows and yet here he was, alive but poorer than seemed possible.

Castiel now lived with a couple, Mr. Crowley and Mrs. Lilith, who had been pronounced his guardians. They were unkind, spiteful individuals who never wanted him in the first place, who only feed him enough to get by on in a day and forced him to sell matches to bring in more money for them to use for themselves. And so, like every day before this, young Castiel was out before the sun, small pockets filled with matches as he waited for the morning bustle of people to begin.

The sun had finally risen; ray's reaching out to gently caress the snowy streets in lines of gold's and light bronzes. People began making their way out of the quaint houses and out into the street. Men in dark warm coats and hats, and women in long dark dresses whose hems lightly brushed the glittering snow. Castiel stood from his spot on the step digging into his pockets and pulling out a handful of matches which he held slightly in front of him so they could be seen. He then continued on trying to grab the attention of the people passing by, calling out his claim of selling matches at a low price.

The morning progressed slowly, and as Castiel moved up and down the street he had yet to sell a single to match to anyone. Some of those that passed simply brushed by him in a rush to get to wherever they were going, others shot him withering looks as they walked on, but most just ignored him all together. Castiel couldn't help but think back to what Mr. Crowley had said to him before he left earlier, that if he hadn't sold every single match he had he could forget about coming home that night. Worry began to seep through him, causing him to lose his concentration and so he accidentally stepped in the way of a man practically running down the street. Before he knew it he was unceremoniously shoved out of the way by rough hands and he fell backwards, landing hard in a small pile of snow on the ground. The man didn't stop or even bother to look back, but instead kept right on the way he was going towards a small shop across the road.

"Hey Cas." Castiel's head shot up when his name was called by a familiar voice. A boy about the same age as Castiel was running towards him, face scrunched up in concern.

"Hello Dean," he said when the boy reached him, arms and legs flailing in an unsuccessful attempt at pushing himself back to his feet. Then a small hand shot out and grabbed his arm, pulling him up and keeping him steady.

Dean Winchester was the oldest child in the Winchester family. He had dirty blonde, short cropped hair, light green eyes that sparkled in the morning sun, and a splatter of dark freckles across his nose and red tinged cheeks. He stood a head taller than Castiel, with broad shoulders and strong arms for a boy his age which came from helping his father at work, a stark comparison to his own slight and wiry frame. He was dressed in a warm wool coat and pants, the good dark brown shoes on his feet where scuffed and dirty, no doubt from the mucky streets, and a long black and blue scarf was wrapped snug around his neck.

"Are you okay," Dean asked, gaze quickly skimming up and down Castiel's body checking for any signs of injuries. "That jerk pushed you pretty hard."

"I am fine Dean, thank you." Castiel assured the boy

Dean stared at him skeptically, doing another quick visual once over before nodding his head in acceptance, a smile quirking his lips. Castiel smiled back and the two moved to take a seat on a small step, Dean tugging at the scarf and proclaiming that even though he was happy his mother had made it for him it was to itchy, all while Castiel just shook his head muttering "Of course Dean" in all the right places.

The two had met a few months back on this very street. Dean's mother, Mary, had sent him into town with some money to fetch a new pack of matches. He had come across Castiel as he marched determinedly up and down the streets, holding out his fistful of matches and proclaiming the price. When he heard that the price for the boy's matches was cheaper than the store not five feet away, Dean immediately headed over. He announced loudly, to the back of the boy's head, that he wanted to purchase enough matches that would be equal to a pack you could get from the store. That's when Castiel had turned and electrifying blue meet bright green and Dean found he was unable to look away. They had stared at each other for what seemed like ages before he broke eye contact to gesture down to the other boy's hands. Castiel had lowered his head shyly and counted out the matches needed before handing them over to Dean, naming the price in a barely audible voice. He had paid, but then found it hard to leave. He wanted to stay, to learn more about this strange boy with the tattered clothes and bright eyes, and before he knew it he was leaning against the lamp post talking to him. Their friendship was born that day, and from then on Dean would always stop by every day he was able to see Castiel.

They boys had been talking for a little while, Castiel timidly laughing at all of his friends jokes, when all of a sudden Dean's eyes lit up. He shot a smile at the other boy and reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a small chunk of bread. He grasped both ends in his hands and broke it in half, handing a piece off to Castiel.

"Mom made some bread yesterday and I brought some to share with you," Dean explained, taking a large bite out of the fluffy white food, and then leaning over with a smile and jabbing his friend in the side with his elbow. "Thought you were looking a little skinny, need to put some meat on your bones." Then he ruffled his hair. "Besides, it's the day before Christmas you know, so shoot me for wanting to share something with my friend."

The thing was, Castiel didn't know. Aside from the always eventful visits from Dean, the days just seemed to blur together for him, with nothing really special to mark them aside from the changing of seasons. So he hadn't realized it was as close to Christmas as it was.

Dean saw the confusion and then sad realization pass over his friends face and looked like he was about to say something, but instead shoved the rest of his bread into his mouth and then stood up and brushed the crumbs from his pants. He needed to hurry back, his dad needed his help today and Dean hated disappointing his father. But before he left, he asked Cas if he wanted to come to the church service with him and his family tomorrow, saying that if he really needed to go he would much rather have a friend to come with him, to make things more fun.

He almost expected Castiel to refuse the invitation, but to his surprise he accepted and with much anticipation blooming in his eyes. But Dean wanted to be sure. He told Cas he needed to promise to come or it would be easy for him to back out.

"I promise Dean."

They agreed to meet at the lamp post tomorrow morning and then go to the service together, and then Dean left for home with a big smile on his lips and Castiel went back to work, face a little happier at the thought of tomorrow.

Dusk was falling over the small American town, the cloud coverage that hung low in the sky turning darker shades of gray inching on black. The dark invaders had rolled in during the middle of the afternoon, obstructing the sun's warm rays and prohibiting a view of the sunset that was even now painting its way across the outer reaches of the clouds. Small white flakes had begun to fall as well, lightly drifting to the already blanketed ground, clinging to hats and long coats of the citizens.

Castiel stood on the street corner, small arms wrapped around him in a vain attempt to trap the minimum heat leaving his body. His round cheeks and small nose were a bright red, his ears not much better and his breath escaped in small puffs of fog in the failing light. He reached one hand into a little pocket and pulled out a small pile of matches, his face twisting into a mix of dejection and sadness at the thought that he would not be returning home that night. A spark of anger ignited in him, his fingers clenching into a fist around the small sticks as he momentarily contemplated chucking them as far as he could and watch them scatter haphazardly across the snow. But the thought was short lived and he simply shoved them further into his pockets, quickly wiping the free hand across his eyes to disrupt the gathering wetness.

Soon it became too dark to see very far, a cold biting wind had risen to blow the falling snow around to further obscure vision, and then the man with the long pole was walking down the street, reaching his small candle into the glass case on top of the lampposts and lighting the fires inside. Castiel stayed where he was until every lamp had been lite on the street and the lamp lighter had moved on, and then he ducked his head and hurried around the corner into a small alleyway that at least sheltered him from the wind.

Two tall brick walls rose on either side of the alley, one was a dark and closed up shop, the other a modest house. That building had a window that faced into the alcove and though the shutters were drawn shut, Castiel could see bright yellow light peeking out beneath the wood. He crept closer and as the window drew near the faint sounds of music and happy laughter drifted out and enveloped him. He was instantly engulfed in memories of warmth, safety, and the knowledge that he was loved by the one person closest to him. Before he could stop himself he was pressed right up against the window, longing to tear it open and climb inside. He pushed himself off the wall and scrambled to the back of the alley, trying to get as far away from the tantalizing image as possible.

The narrow passage ended with a dead end, snow was piled up in drifts against the back wall and almost covered a small bundle of old and broken wooden crates pushed into a corner. Castiel found the one that seemed in the best shape, brushing the snow off with a ratty sleeve and then curled up on top of it to try and get some sleep.

But sleep did not come.

The snow had continued to fall, even into the small nook he had taken shelter in, and it brushed against his cheeks, gathered on his neck and shoulders, and stuck to his exposed skin. The cold nipped at every part of him, from the tips of his ears the arches of his feet and back again. In a desperate attempt to escape the cold and darkness closing in around him, Castiel thrust his hand into his pocket, pulled free a match and struck it against the brick wall.

OoOoOo

A soft warm light grew as the match was lite, oranges and yellows danced across the brick walls and were scattered by the snow beneath. Castiel was captured by the slowly swaying flame and stared at it with deep concentration. And then, when he raised his head to look at the wall in front of him his eyes slowly widened in shock and disbelief.

In front of him, instead of cold red brown bricks, a large table was sitting before him. A crisp white tablecloth, as pure as a fresh snow fall, lay across its surface, the edges embroidered with patterned lace hanging down the sides. Many dark wood chairs were placed around the perimeter, the tallest two sitting at the head and foot of the table with beautiful place settings in front of each one. But the most captivating part was the food. A meal fit for a king was spread across its length, delicate china bowls heaped with potatoes, corn and stuffing, and the largest turkey Castiel had ever seen sat right in the middle of the table atop a gold trimmed serving plate. The smell was powerful and overwhelming, causing his mouth to begin to water.

But then something different caught Castiel's attention. At the far end of the table was a large doorway, the doors standing open and inviting to him. The sounds of merry laughter and excited chatter sounded just beyond and a feeling of anticipation filled him and he wanted to go and investigate. But just as the thought is produced, the match in his hand fizzled and died.

The vision faded and Castiel was left sitting in the snow colder than ever, and with the nagging feeling that he was missing something very important. Quickly he reached into his pocket and struck another match, watching the flame dance back and forth and then turned his attention to the light colored wall again.

OoOoOo

This time, as Castiels wide eyes come into contact with the supposed to be rough surface, he saw instead a tall fir tree. It was much taller than he was, with full long branches colored a soft dark green and it stood tall and proud in its small red stand. He had never seen a tree quite like this one. He had been to the forest just outside of town many times but those trees all seemed to tall and thin to have been the same kind of tree, and there was something very special about this one.

Shiny silver and gold tinsel draped over the branches, the edges catching the soft glow of the room and reflecting it up the walls in small dancing circles. Popcorn strung on thin strands marched along beside the tinsel, the smell tantalizing and fresh. Small delicate red balls hung from the strands, and that's when Castiel saw them. Resting on many of the branches were small gold stands, each held a pure white candle that was lite, the flames swaying as if in a dance and casting light around the room. They burned brighter than any he had had ever seen, almost glowing with an unnatural light, like a million small suns.

Beside the tree a fine blaze was burning in the hearth of a blue veined, marble fireplace adding to the light of the room. Warmth swam from the large opening, filling the area and stopping just out of full reach from Castiel, desirable and taunting. His arms reached up to try and draw in the warmth and beauty, but just as the last time, before he could grasp it the match again fizzled and died.

Now Castiel did not hesitate. He just wanted to be surrounded by those wonderful feelings, he craved them, so he pulled yet another match free and hurriedly lit it against the rough brick.

OoOoOo

The sight that greeted him was a rather unexpected one that left the boy puzzled.

It was a simple empty room before him, close walls and a single short table as the only furniture inside. Another pure white candle squatted in its stand, the wax dripping down the edges and pooling on the metal surface underneath as if the owner had lit it a while ago and left it burning. It casted a pale yellow glow across the floor and up the three empty walls.

Castiel's head swiveled in order to take in everything to make sure he was not missing anything, but the area remained the same. Confusion crept into his mind, wrinkling his tiny brow into a small frown as he couldn't help but wonder just what a small empty and strangely quiet room had to offer to him. That's when the sound of movement reached his ears.

Castiel's head turned and there, standing in the spot beside the table that had been empty earlier, was a man turned away from him. The man was short and wearing a jacket and pants, light brown hair tossed about on his head and all of a sudden, Castiel couldn't breathe. Back view or not, he knew that man, had spent many of the happiest years of his life with him until fate stole him up. It was his older brother, the one that died from a terrible accident not more than a few years ago.

Finally he was able to suck in a breath and he found himself shaking slightly, wetness gathering behind his eyes. Slowly, as if afraid to scare the vision off, he reached out a hand to the man. He longed to go to him, to hug him and could feel the joy filling him inside, when suddenly he caught sight of the edges of the room starting fade. Horrified at the prospect of losing his brother again, Castiel grabbed every last match in his tiny hands and lit every single one. The vision grew stronger, solidified until he felt that he had actually stepped into the room.

Castiel smiled lightly to himself and then started towards the man beside the table, finger itching to touch, eyes longing to see his face again.

Christmas morning dawned bright and clear, the sound of the church bells ringing through the air and winter birds chirping to wake the town with their song. The blue sky above was vast, small fluffy clouds floating lazily on the morning breeze and the fresh snow sparkled like magic dust strewn across the ground.

Dean ran down the boardwalk, bundled in warm clothing and a huge smile plastered on his face. His family walked not far behind him, John's arm resting comfortably on Mary's waist and young Sam trying to force his small feet to catch up to his older brother, each dressed in their very best. They were on their way to the Christmas morning service along with many of the towns other families, but Dean was excited to reach the street just up ahead.

He had told his parents the night before that he had invited Castiel to church on Christmas and that he had wanted to come with them. Both John and Mary had heard about their son's little friend, had been happy that he had made one of a child his age, and were now excited that they were finally going to meet him. Dean had never told him much about him, he himself didn't know a whole lot, and Mary really wanted the chance to get to know the boy whose name was talked about almost every day.

Dean rounded the corner of a shop and there, not five feet away, was the familiar lamppost standing on the street corner, frost clinging to the dark metal pole. But something was missing, or more accurately someone was missing. It was quite a surprise not to see Cas already there waiting, he was always there before him and Dean had just assumed today would be no different. Maybe he was a little late, it was Christmas after all. Dean stood under the lamppost, shoving his small hands into his coat pockets and watched as his family rounded the corner, determined to wait until his friend showed.

But he never did.

They had been standing on the street corner for close to ten minutes before John announced that they needed to leave if they were going to make it to the service on time.

Dean hung his head, dejection filling him as he slowly dragged his feet after his father. Cas hadn't shown up. Cas had promised to come and yet he wasn't there. Friends didn't break promises, no one should but friends especially, at least that's what he had thought before today. Dean crossed his arms over his chest, a scowl worming its way on to his face as he tried to think of a reason why Cas wouldn't have come, but no matter how hard he tried he just couldn't think of a good enough one that made sense to him.

The group had turned onto another street and were just passing by the mouth of an alley when Sam's small light voice pulled Dean from his brooding. His younger brother had latched onto his arm, tugging on the coat sleeve, eyes wide with excitement as he pointed to something in the alley.

"Look Dean, a shoe! I see a shoe in the snow!"

Dean peered into the long passageway cast in shadows trying to see what Sam was talking about. Then he too saw it, a small brown shoe lay in the snow beside some old wooden crates stacked against one of the walls. He simply smiles and ruffles his brother's hair, ready to keep moving after their parents when something catches his eye. He looks back at the shoe in the snow, squinting his eyes together to try to see better and sees it again. There's some fabric attached to the shoe, and upon further inspection, is revealed to be a pair of trousers. A faded blue color, ripped at what would be the knees and tattered and worn looking. A pair of trousers that he would know anywhere.

Dean didn't know he had called out to his parents, didn't know he had even left his brother's side until he was tearing down the alleyway at break neck speed. He urged himself towards the back, praying that he was wrong, that his mind was playing mean and nasty tricks on him. But just when he reached his destination he pulled up short, small eyes widening in pure shock and horror at the sight before him.

Castiel, his best friend, lay huddled on an old broken crate leaned up against a brick wall. His eyes were closed, his skin was paler than usual and his lips were a terrifying shade of blue. One leg lay dangling over the edge of the wood, foot dragging on the ground, and his small arms were wrapped loosely around his side in what looked like had been a vain attempt at keeping himself warm. A thin layer of soft pure white snow lay over his body, the snowflakes clinging to his tattered clothes and colorless cheeks.

Dean heard the sound of his family approaching behind him, but he couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from what looked to be his friend's dead body lying there, burnt and used matches littering the ground around him. Then Mary gasped and suddenly he was snapped out of the dark trance that had been laid over him. He rushed to his friend's side, small hands gripping the stiff shoulders and shaking gently.

"Cas? Cas wake up," Dean coaxed softly, willing the boy to open those blue eyes and look at him. When no response came his shaking became harder, his voice more frantic. "Cas! Cas wake up! You need to wake up! It's time for church! You promised you'd come to church with me! You promised Cas!" Dean's voice broke and tears blurred his vision, a few already streaking down his face.

Suddenly a pair of strong arms gathered him up and he was pulled into his father's warm chest, the man's deep voice whispering apologizes to him. The gentle hand of his mother smoothed back his hair and rubbed his back, her comforting words mixing with his father's.

"You promised."

Dean wanted nothing more than to sob into the warmth and safety of his father's embrace, but he just couldn't knowing Cas was just a few feet away, no longer here because of the cold. So he pushed out of his arms, scrubbing an arm over his face before slowly turning to face the still body. It was scary just how much he seemed pulled by it, the feeling to look and then never look away ever again, but as he did he couldn't shake the guilt that clouded over his head and weighed down his shoulders. He was just about to turn away again when he noticed it, the faintest movement of his friend's chest.

A single breath.

Cas was still alive!

Dean shouted and John instantly rushed over, kneeling down and placing an ear to the small boy's chest. A beat, then two. Then finally his father's head shot up, exclaiming he heard a heartbeat, that there was still hope. He yanked his own jacket off and hurriedly wrapped it around Cas' slight frame, lifting him into his arms and took off towards the street. Dean scurried after him, trying to match his father's speed as they raced for their home, trying to beat the clock.

End of Part 1

Thanks for reading everyone. Hope you enjoyed and Merry Christmas! *walks away*

...Wait a sec...*runs back*

There's still a second part to this story isn't there? Oops sorry, almost left you hanging. Well the second part will be up ASAIWI (as soon as I write it) which should be fairly soon seeing as how I have a 6 hour drive ahead of me for a family vacation, but it won't last more than a week and then the second half should be up by then. Sorry, family duty calls.

Hope you enjoyed this first installment, and please Review if you did, heck even if you didn't and you have some tomatoes you're just dying to throw please do, I welcome it!

Until next time *salutes*

SPNAngelGirl