Fireworks fill the black sky in colors of red, white, blue, green, and pink; the people reclining on blankets and chairs look up with smiles on their faces. Well, except one—a man in a rumpled trench coat that seemed to be a little awe. Dean looks over at the angel and raises an eyebrow at his wonderstruck look. "What is it, Cas," he asks, taking a long drink from the beer bottle in his hand.
"It's just strange to be seeing this so close up." The angel's blue eyes never leave the sky, only widening when two more fireworks shoot up and crackle. "It is beautiful." Sam nods in agreement, patting Castiel on the shoulder and making him jump.
"Relax, you don't have to be so tense tonight," Sam assures him, patting his shoulder again and rubbing it slightly. "Trust me." Slowly, both boys could tell that Cas had taken Sam's advice; his shoulders no longer so rigid like they usually are. Dean smirks, leaning back in the stolen lawn chair and taking another drink of his beer and looking around them out of pure habit.
"And you both do this every year," Cas asks softly, not wanting to bother the people surrounding them. Dean and Sam shrug and look at each other before looking at the angel again.
"Not as much as we would like," Dean tells him. Cas nods again, looking up at the shower of white and purple sparks that rain down, sputtering out before they could hit the ground. He smiles as a yellow cross forms in the sky for a few seconds, reminding him of his Father.
Too soon for Castiel's liking, the show is over and they have to pack up and head back to the motel where they would begin to work on their latest case. Standing by the Impala are three teenage boys, grinning their way. The trio tenses immediately as they notice that the boys' eyes are entirely black—demons. Dean sighs, pulling out Ruby's demon killing knife from the back waistband of his jeans.
There were no breaks in this business.