Lucifer was free and three of the Four Horsemen still needed to be taken down, but things had been strangely quiet for the Winchester brothers lately. They'd shown up at Bobby's right after Thanksgiving just hoping for enough time to get at least one idea on how to stop the apocalypse; before they knew it, Christmas was almost here.
Dean was getting excited for the holiday. It probably had a lot to do with his affection for last-night-on-Earth scenarios, but the whole idea that this could be their last Christmas stirred something in him. He remembered his last "last Christmas" with Sam, when they knew he was destined for puppy chow. It had been all lame gifts and over-spiked eggnog, but Dean wouldn't have had it any other way.
Sam and Bobby, however, were being huge Scrooges. When Dean brought in a tree, Bobby grumbled under his breath, most of which he'd missed except for "idjit" and "damned fool." On their last beer run, a Christmas song came on Baby's radio. Sam rolled his eyes dramatically as Dean hummed along. Luckily, Dean was an extra special kind of stubborn, so he was going to get an actual Christmas this year, dammit. And he knew exactly how to do it.
It was three days before Christmas, and Bobby, Sam, and Dean were in their usual positions around Bobby's study, all buried in a book or computer screen. Steaming mugs of coffee were traded for bottles of beer as the day wore on. It was starting to get dark when Dean's phone rang. Taking one look at the screen, he hooted as he answered it. "Ellen? Yeah, it's me...Jo with you?...awesome...yup, meant every word...how's 6 sound?...some beers or something stronger, but I've got everything else covered...awesome...see you then!" Dean's smile threatened to split his handsome face.
Bobby and Sam shared a look. "What the Hell was that all about?" Bobby asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at Dean.
"Ellen and Jo are coming for Christmas dinner. Cas already said he'd be there too."
Double eyerolls greeted that statement. "Dean, we've been over this," Sam said, exasperated. "Winchesters and Christmas just don't mix."
"Yeah, boy, you want another set of pagan gods trying to snack on your liver?"
Dean shrugged and held out his phone. "Alright. Which one of you is calling Ellen and telling her not to come?"
Both their eyes went wide, they shared another look, and finally Bobby said, "Alright, you can have your damn dinner. Just don't expect me to go all Martha Stewart around here."
"Wouldn't dream of it. House is probably being held together by the cobwebs and rust at this point anyway," Dean replied, laughing internally. He'd seen them both face down hundreds of monsters without flinching, but he'd known the idea of incurring Ellen Harvelle's wrath would have them backing down in seconds flat. "Only things I'll ask of you guys is to show up on time for dinner showered and dressed. I got the rest."
A third significant look passed between Bobby and Sam, and all three went back to their research.
Christmas Day
It'd been two days of hard work, but Dean was more excited than ever about this dinner. His enthusiasm had been so contagious that Bobby and Sam had pitched in a little that morning. They'd hung amulets and other charms in the small tree in the study and pinned a picture of a Devil's Trap to the top in lieu of a star. Sam had even tried his hand at making a wreath out of empty beer cans; he'd failed miserably, but they'd had a much needed laugh at the whole thing.
Right now, though, they were upstairs getting dressed, and Dean was all alone in the kitchen as the timer on his phone sounded. Perfect. He opened the oven and gently removed his big surprise. The pie looked amazing and smelled even better. The crust was a perfect golden brown, and just a hint of juicy goodness oozed from the vents he'd cut in the top. Looking around the small kitchen, Dean decided to set the pie on the top of the fridge, hoping everyone would be so focused on grabbing beers from the inside that they'd miss it.
He heard footsteps on the stairs and turned quickly back to the oven. Turning down the heat, he slipped the finished food back inside to keep it warm as Sam and Bobby came in.
Sam inhaled deeply, then nodded appreciatively. "I'm impressed, Dean. We're a long way from hot-plate canned spaghetti."
"Had to be something I'm good at that doesn't involve killing, right?" he quipped, brushing off his hands. "I'm grabbing a quick shower and change. Can you guys set the table? And keep your damn hands off the food, got it?"
Bobby snorted at him. "Like to see you try to enforce that, boy," he growled, yanking open the fridge and grabbing beers for himself and Sam. Dean was still standing there, glaring at them sternly. "Well, hurry up, Princess. Need time to shave your legs and put your face on before everyone gets here, don'tcha?"
Dean shot them both a distinctive hand gesture before heading up the stairs. He showered and dressed in record time and was coming back down just as Ellen and Jo were coming in, loaded down with beer. He watched as Sam took the six packs off their hands, earning him a quick hug from Ellen and a punch on the shoulder from Jo. A warm smile curved his full lips and lit up his emerald eyes as he took in what amounted to most of his family. Only one missing was-
A whoosh behind him told Dean their last guest had arrived. "Hello, Dean," intoned Castiel in his gravelly voice.
Turning, Dean smiled at the angel. "Good to see you, Cas."
Cas tilted his head, a quizzical look on his face. "Is that because you fear there's something wrong with your eyesight?"
"Just an expression, Cas. My eyes are fine." He clapped the angel on the shoulder and steered him toward everyone else before ducking back into the kitchen to start setting out food. Bobby had dug up a tablecloth, one of those plastic plaid ones you usually saw at barbeques. The plates were mismatched, many of them chipped, and the utensils were plastic, but it was the most beautiful thing Dean had seen in a long time. "Grub's on. Come and get it," he called.
Hoots and whistles of praise sounded as everyone took in the sight on the table. The food was pretty simple, but there was lots of it. Roasted chicken legs, baked potatoes, corn on the cob, peas and carrots, biscuits (from a can, sure, but he still had to bake them). Hell, he'd even thrown together a salad just to make Sam happy.
Ellen threw an arm around him. "You did this all yourself?" she asked, planting a motherly kiss on his cheek.
Wrapping an arm around her waist, he hugged her to his side as he nodded. "Yup. Don't worry-Bobby and Sam checked to make sure I wasn't possessed."
"I'm impressed, Dean," Jo piped up from his other side. "On your way to being a damn fine housewife." She laughed and ducked as he swung a half-hearted slap at the back of her head, popping back up and giving him a congratulatory swat on the rear before grabbing a seat at the table.
Cas filled the spot she'd vacated, standing too close to Dean as usual. "Is it traditional to engage in physical altercations on Christmas?"
"Been known to happen from time to time, there, Cas," Ellen answered with a smile, sitting down next to Bobby.
Dean gestured for the angel to take the seat next to Jo, and he sat down immediately. Looking across the table, he saw Sam sitting at the other end, holding up his beer. "To Dean, without whose devious mind and stubbornness none of this would have happened." Everyone raised their drinks and voiced their agreement.
"Alright, alright. Let's just eat, yeah," he growled, a small smile quirking up the side of his mouth as he tried to hide how happy their praise had made him.
That dinner was one of the best nights Dean had ever had. All of the humans were laughing, telling old stories, sharing some new ones. Castiel quietly took it all in, his eyes darting around the table at the speakers, checking the reactions of the others around him. Dean couldn't help but smile as Cas's deep blue eyes widened when Jo slapped her hand down on his thigh laughing at Sam's account of Dean's encounter with the cat when he'd caught that ghost sickness.
Dinner wound down, and Dean nearly bounced up from the table to grab the pie. Setting it down on the table with a flourish, Dean announced, "Dessert is served."
Oohs and aahs were exchanged as he cut slices for everyone, insisting Cas at least try a piece. The scent of apples and cinnamon enveloped the whole room as everyone started in on their servings.
"Oh my God," Dean moaned around his first mouthful.
Sam snorted. "You two want to be alone?" he asked, then took his own first bite. Eyes wide, he made indecent noises of his own. "Holy crap, Dean!" he blurted out, diving right back in for more.
Jo and Ellen shared mysterious female looks before tasting the pie. "Man, Dean, this is better than sex!" Jo exclaimed, earning her a disapproving look from her mother and an interested one from Dean.
"You're just saying that because you've never slept with me," Sam said, wiping his already empty plate with a finger and licking it off. "Of course, you're so hung up on Dean that you probably never will." His whiskey-hued eyes went wide as everyone stared at him. "What just happened?" he asked carefully.
"How much have you had to drink there, son?" Bobby asked.
"Not enough to blurt that out, and certainly not enough to tell you I value your opinion of me more than anyone else's, including Dean." Sam clapped both of his large hands over his mouth.
"Nice, Sam," Dean responded, "that's real nice. I already spend way too much time boosting my low self-esteem with one-night stands; didn't need to take another hit from the baby brother I look up to." He blinked, then covered his own mouth before anything else came out.
Bobby swore. "Dean, where did you get the recipe?"
The older Winchester moved his hand to respond. "I found it in your desk a couple of weeks ago when I was looking to borrow from your stash of adult videos. Son of a bitch!"
Ellen turned a hard gaze on Bobby. "I've been throwing you signals for years now and you prefer to spend your free time with pretend bimbos?"
Refusing to wither under her gaze, Bobby retorted, "I haven't watched those videos in years, haven't needed to with all those 'Housewives' shows they got now." He started in surprise, then pressed his lips together.
"Oh, 'cause that's so much better," Ellen replied, then stuffed a biscuit in her mouth before she could finish her thought.
Jo looked over at her mother. "Ew, mom, could you please stow the sex stuff? I need to hear that from you like you need to hear I spent most of dinner toying with the idea of trying to set up a Winchester sandwich later." Both Dean and Sam stared at her, and Jo went bright red.
Castiel also looked at Jo before finally speaking. "Me too," he stated simply.
"WHAT THE HELL IS IN THIS PIE!?" Sam yelled across the table, covering his mouth again.
Tentatively, Bobby spoke. "Was this recipe on a piece of paper attached to a jar?" he managed to get out.
Dean nodded. "Yeah, it said to add some of the spice that was in the jar to make it extra special. Really got my attention, what with the pie obsession I use as a replacement for my mom's love-son of a bitch!"
"Balls!" exclaimed Bobby. "Those weren't spices, Dean. They were ingredients for a spell. I'd go off on you for being stupid right now, but I think you're the smartest person at this table, so it just doesn't feel right. Dammit!" He took a long drink of his beer. "It's from a really old witch. She thought her husband was having an affair, so she put together this spell that makes people blurt out things they don't want to say. I was holding onto it for the next time you two idjits decided to lie to each other about something big. Only a matter of time before it happened again." Clamping his mouth shut, Bobby got up from the table and threw out the rest of his pie.
Everyone else followed suit. "How long until it wears off, do you think?" Ellen asked. "I don't think these boys really want to hear how-" She stuffed her fist in her mouth, mumbled the rest of her thought unintelligibly, and sighed in relief.
"Just needs to work itself out of our systems," Bobby said. "The less we ate, the sooner it should go." He took a page from Ellen's book and stuck a dish towel in his mouth to keep from blurting anything else out.
Sam's eyes went wide. "I ate the whole piece! You're telling me it might be tomorrow before I can be sure I won't tell Dean how often I used his car to-" He got his hand up just in time to stop himself.
"Used Baby to do what, Sam?!" Dean charged his brother and yanked his hand away.
"Get into one-nighters when I was trying to figure out how to get you back from Hell."
Dean looked confused. "That's not so bad, Sammy. Lord knows I've done it more than once. So many good memories stacked in that car I'll sometimes-nope!" He grabbed a beer, took a large swig, and held it in his mouth for a long moment before swallowing. Clamping his lips together, he used his hands to signal for everyone to scatter. Ellen and Jo grabbed their things as quickly as they could one-handed, uncovered their mouths long enough to yell their goodbyes, and ran out the door.
Bobby started to trudge up the stairs. "So, by 'work itself out' Bobby, you mean...?"
"Yeah, Sam, which is a damn shame. I'm pretty sure I'd rather eat another slice of this pie in front of everyone I've ever met than have to go in behind you in the bathroom tomorrow or any other day."
Sighing, Sam responded, "If I didn't respect you so much I'd slug you right now." Bobby's footsteps faded, and Sam turned to his brother. "It was a really wonderful dinner, Dean. I know I gave you a ton of crap about it, and the whole pie thing is a complete disaster, but thanks for putting this all together."
Smiling, Dean walked over and hugged his brother. "Anytime, Sammy, but next time I buy the pie." Both Winchesters looked at Cas, who'd only spoken once since dessert was served. "One good thing came out of this, guys. Now we know witch spells work on angels."
Cass assumed his usual confused expression. "The spell didn't work on me, Dean. I process food on the molecular level, and those ingredients don't work if they're not mixed."
The brother shared a look. "So, when you said...nevermind!" Dean stated firmly. "Sam, we're going to bed. 'Night, Cas."
"Good night, Dean. Good night, Sam." In a blink, he was gone.
Heading up the stairs, Dean turned to Sam. "You know what? The next time I try to put a holiday together, you have my permission to handcuff me to something sturdy and beat some sense into me."
"No objections here. Here's to hoping you can get a good night's sleep without the nightmares I know you're hiding from me."
Dean raised his eyebrows at that. "Ditto, baby brother. We'll talk about that in the morning."
Sam smiled. "Not if the pie's worn off, we won't."
Laughing, the opened their bedroom doors, waved one last time, and headed off to try to find some sleep.