Author's Note: This may be the only Supernatural story that I ever write but I wanted to give it a try. I LOVE this show and if I ever do write another one, just please know that Bobby and Rufus will always be alive in my Supernatural 'verse because killing them off just NEVER should have happened! I still live in hopes they'll bring them back though. I mean, it's Supernatural, nobody ever stays dead for long. Happy holidays everyone! :)

Disclaimer: I do not own anything in relation to Supernatural.

"So this is how our Christmas starts out, huh, Sammy?" scoffs Dean as he stares down at the opened gift box containing the entire series to date of Supernatural books.

"Looks like it, Dean," replies Sam with a sigh and a slight shake of his head as he reads the card that came with it.

Dear Sam and Dean,

I thought of you the moment that I saw these (mostly you, Sam). Hope you enjoy them.

Love, Becky xoxoxox

"Still," admits Sam with a shrug and an uncomfortable smile as he drops the card onto Bobby's desk, "I guess it's nice to be remembered during the holidays." As Dean flips through one of their early adventures, Sam mentions, "I thought that Chuck was going to quit writing about us."

Dean grimaces as he mutters, "Obviously not," and tosses the book back into the box. "Jerk."

"Yeah, so anyway, what do you say we get started on the tree?" suggests Sam.

"Sure, why not? Sounds good to me. Hey, Bobby!" he calls out to the kitchen. "Where did you put the decorations?"

"Try checking the boxes in the corner marked 'ornaments', Einstein!" returns Bobby in an obviously frustrated tone.

The brothers simultaneously raise their eyebrows and share a grimace before heading over to the boxes and moving them over next to the tree. Digging through the odds and ends that Bobby has collected over the years, they soon come across a handful of homemade ornaments that the boys had made on the road when they were younger and mailed home to Bobby.

Dean's eyes light up in excitement and he releases a laugh when he pulls out a small toy Impala that he had painted black and sent Bobby one Christmas. "Hey, check this out, Sammy! Remember this?"

"Aw, man," muses Sam as he flashes back to a cheap motel room and watching Dean anguish over every detail before declaring it finished, "I can't believe he kept this stuff after all of this time."

They sift through the rest of the ornaments as they quietly reflect on the few cherished memories that they were allowed to grasp during the holidays until staring down at the toy car clutched tightly in his palm, Dean breaks the silence. "Sam?"

"Yeah?" he inquires without glancing up as he starts sorting the ornaments into piles.

Dean shakes the car back and forth using the key chain that he had attached to it long ago. "Do you think Bobby would miss this?"

"Yes, Dean," reprimands Sam as he reaches over and snatches the car off him, "I think that he would!"

Dean pulls a face in reply and brushes the dust from the boxes off of his jeans as he rises to a standing position. "While you're busy sorting those out, I'll go and grab us some – arrgghh!"

"Hello there, Dean." Castiel leans to the left to look past the Winchester brother currently trying to control his heartbeat to the other one wearing a giant amused grin. "Hello, Sam. Merry Christmas."

Still breathing hard, Dean gripes, "Geez, Cas, a little warning might have been nice!" He takes a few calming breaths. "Don't you remember what I told you the last time that you just popped in like that?"

"Yes, I do," answers the angel in a stoic tone. "You said that I shouldn't appear unexpectedly when you're in the bathroom and then you asked me to leave." He begins to frown as he recalls the confrontation. "Rather rudely too."

"Sorry if I offended you," deadpans Dean. "What are you doing here anyway?"

"Bobby invited me for Christmas dinner." He shifts uncomfortably at the mutual look of surprise that crosses their faces. "I hope that's alright."

"Of course, it's alright, Cas," assures Sam as he stands up and drops a huge knotted ball of wire onto the ground in disgust. "Besides, I think that we're going to need an angel to work a miracle untangling these Christmas lights."

Castiel smiles gratefully before he bends down to pick up the tangle of wires as his gaze happens to fall onto two ornaments in particular. "I see you have an angel and a star. Which one goes on top of the tree?"

"Star!" declare the boys firmly without a moments hesitation.

Castiel's brow furrows as he stares at them in suspicion. "Should I be offended?"

BANG! Bobby slams another cupboard door shut while growling, "Dammit, where the hell is the Rosemary?"

Rufus doesn't even bother sparing a glance for Bobby as he concentrates on mixing the contents of his bowl. "You're out, I lent the last of it to Garth when he stopped by yesterday. He was heading out on a job and it sounded like it he might be meeting up with a Lamia."

"Well, that's just great, Rufus!" grouses Bobby as he slams his hand down on the counter. "How am I supposed to make stuffing without Rosemary?"

"How should I know?" returns Rufus just as irritably as he taps the spoon against the side of the bowl to remove the remaining batter. "Can't you just use that stuffing that comes in a box?"

"No, you idiot, I can't use pre-made stuffing. This is supposed to be an authentic Christmas dinner!" He grunts in frustration and releases a weary sigh as he gestures to the plastic bag. "Hand me that onion over there."

"Alright, Martha Stewart, just relax." He smirks at his old friend before he snorts in amusement. "Don't go getting your apron in a twist."

"Shut up," mutters Bobby with a scowl.

Rufus pours the cornbread batter into a pan and then slides it onto the oven rack. He slowly straightens and rubs his back before reaching for the vegetable peeler and half-spilled bag of potatoes lying on its side. "So you're planning on having an authentic Christmas, huh?" He jerks his head to indicate the living room. "Is that why you invited Cas?"

Bobby remains silent but offers a slight shrug of his shoulders. Rufus continues peeling the potatoes and clears his throat. "You know, I tried to talk to him after you summoned him earlier, put us on some common ground, so I mentioned 'Touched By An Angel'. He said that he thought that you would have warned me about embarking on such an endeavor."

Rufus' gaze is a mixture of curiosity and uncomfortable as he asks, "You want to tell me what he's talking about?"

Bobby tries staying silent hoping that Rufus will change the subject until he notices the old hunter merely standing at the stove giving him a pointed stare. Oh balls, he isn't going to let this go. He turns around and crosses his arms over his chest as he admits, "Cas is referring to when he gave me a soulonscopy."

Rufus takes a nervous step back. "What the hell is that? Is it contagious?"

"No," denies Bobby with a roll of his eyes, "it's not contagious. It was sort of a colonscopy of my soul. He stuck his hand through my chest so that he could touch my soul."

At Rufus' confused expression, Bobby expounds, "He was low on batteries and needed my soul to recharge. Apparently he can't use jumper cables like everyone else."

Rufus' mouth twists into a grimace. "Sounds rough."

"Well, you know how it is," he remarks dryly as he shifts into a more comfortable position, "you do what you have to do to give to the cause."

"Did it hurt?" queries Rufus with a wince.

"Yeah, like hell," answers Bobby emphatically, "but with a great big heaping of the Apocalypse on top of it."

A soft chuckle emits from Rufus as he shakes his head in awe. "Man, Bobby, letting an angel touch your soul so that he can fill up his gas tank? You really would do anything for those boys, wouldn't you?"

Bobby turns back to chopping the onion with a vengeance, his gaze darting to Rufus, full of disbelief. "After all of this time, Rufus, do you even have to ask?"

Outside in the auto yard, Dean shoves a bag of trash into an old bin and then takes a few moments to enjoy the peace and quiet as he gazes up at the night sky. Five minutes later, Sam joins him dragging two huge bags of empty bottles alongside him for Bobby's recycle bin.

Sam dumps the bags in the bin and chuckles. "Man, Dean, Bobby has enough bottles and cans of alcohol to open his own liquor store. I wonder what the guy at the recycling center thinks every time that he goes to cash them in?"

Dean laughs and replies, "Yeah, I know, right? But I guess a hunter has got to find some way to earn extra gas money."

Sam starts to head back in and stops when he notices Dean staying put. "Dean, come on, man, it's freezing out here."

Dean avoids his brother's gaze and insists, "You go on in, and I'll be there in a minute."

Sam's eyes narrow in suspicion as he asks, "Why do you want to stay out here?" When Dean doesn't answer him and just continues staring up at the sky, Sam's eyes widen in realization. "Are you wishing Mom a Merry Christmas? I thought that you stopped doing that when we were kids."

Dean gives an embarrassed shrug and blows out a stream of air that steams up the night as he shoves his hands in his pockets and keeps watching the sky. "Seems stupid, right? I mean, she's gone and it's not like she can hear me, but…" he looks over at Sam with his heart in his eyes, "I just don't want her to think that I forgot about her."

Sam nods and stands a little closer to his brother in support. "I can understand that. I don't even have any of your memories of her and I still miss her."

"Yeah?" utters Dean in a choked up voice before loudly clearing his throat.

Sam smiles softly while he reassures his brother. "Of course, I do, Dean. I think about her every day."

Dean nods and they both stand in the yard, each silently lost in their own thoughts until Sam questions, "Do you think that she can really hear you?"

"She can now," answers Cas from behind them in a definite tone.

The brothers spin around in shock and simply stare at the angel for awhile, Sam in sheer disbelief and Dean with some slight hope.

"Merry Christmas, Sam and Dean," wishes Cas with a crooked smile.

Dean returns the sentiment with a huge grin and places his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Thanks, Cas."

"You're welcome," says Cas with a soft nod of acknowledgement. "Bobby wanted me to tell you that dinner's ready." He's about to move back inside when he stands completely still and stares up at the sky until a flurry of snowflakes begin to descend around the three men.

With one last nod, Cas walks back into the house to give the boys a few moments alone and they briefly glance at each other before staring up at the brightest star in the sky and stating in unison, "Merry Christmas, Mom."

Dean blinks back the tears in his eyes and hoarsely adds, "We love you," and then turns to his brother and throws his arm around his shoulder pulling him close to his side. "Come on, Sammy, let's go back inside before Grumpy and Grumpier finish all of the beer."

To be continued…