Sam gaped at the elf. Dean started toward it with an inarticulate growl, hand reaching out, only to stop when a feast appeared on the table. A spiral sliced ham on a silver platter. Bourbon and brown sugar sweet potatoes in a dainty china serving bowl. A basket of delicately browned dinner rolls. Salad, a boat of dressing beside it. Tray of sliced veggies, complete with a heap of black olives.

The aroma was overwhelming, and Dean started to salivate. Without thinking, he reached for the black olives, prepared to pop one on the end of each finger and nibble them off. Sam thrust an arm before him, stopping him, eyeing the banquet with suspicion.

"Stop. Don't eat anything. Remember what fairy food is supposed to do to you."

Dean whimpered slightly. Aside from the fucking elf-creature - pooka? - the whole spread looked and smelled amazing. "Dude!" he pleaded. "Look! There's even horseradish sauce! And hot mustard! And pie!" Yes. There was pie. It was almost too much for a grown man to handle, and Dean whimpered again.

"Dean. Stop drooling and think. We just identify this thing, and suddenly a feast appears? I don't think so." Sam folded his arms and divided his attention between the elf, the feast, and his tormented brother. Dean slumped, eyes darting to the food again. Then he ran a hand over his chin, sighed, and stepped back, closing his eyes.

"Oh, come on!" The irritated voice was very familiar.

A short, golden-brown haired man with a mischievous expression appeared in place of the elf, hands folded in his lap and legs bumping up against various dishes. He grinned widely, jumped off the table, and struck a pose. With jazz hands. "Ta-daaaa! Sam and Dean Winchester, this...is...your life!" The voice boomed out like a voice announcer on a game show. Black T-shirt, olive drab jacket, Adidas sneakers, wavy hair, smirk, obnoxious over-acting, now swaggering around the room - oh, yes, they knew him. "Boys! Is this the kind of thanks I get for providing entertainment and a friggin' gorgeous Christmas dinner? - If I do say so myself, and I do! - Showing up like the proverbial Prodigal Son?" He stopped by Dean, leaned in to him sideways, and asked in a stage whisper, "Didja miss me?" He wagged his eyebrows and nudged him in the side with an elbow.

Dean drew his head back, gave him a sour look, and said, baldly, "No."

Sam folded his arms again. "Gabriel," was all he said in a flat voice.

"Boys! Damn! Where's my welcome home?" He stepped back from Dean and posed again, arms spread wide, smirking.

It was too much for Sam, who snarled and started advancing on the archangel. "You - you - "

Gabriel darted behind Dean, and popped his head up over his shoulder, eyes bright and teasing. "Sammy! What? Didn't you like my wild ride?!"

Sam growled and reached around Dean. Gabriel sidled away, still keeping Dean between them, poking his head around Dean's side. "Hunh. Guess not. And the choir? The snowman? Don't you two have any - any - joy and mirth? You two are way too uptight. Relax a little!"

"Relax - ?! I'll 'relax' you, you - " Sam choked out. Dean put out his arm, holding Sam back.

"Dude. Chill. It's not gonna get you anywhere except more angry." He locked eyes with Sam, who huffed, and pushed, then finally calmed a bit and stepped back. Dean nodded at him in approval, then transferred his gaze to the short archangel. "Now. Gabriel. What the hell are you doing here?"

Gabriel stopped grinning. "Um. Well." His shoulders slumped a bit. He disappeared, and reappeared in a chair at the table. He gestured grandly at the display. "C'mon, c'mon, sit down, enjoy the food. It's not gonna bite you!" He glinted at Sam with a tiny, sly smile. "Not fairy food, I promise, Sammy! C'mon, sit down, eat!" After a moment filled with fraught, irritated silence, the boys moved forward and joined him at the table. Creamy white china dishes filled to overflowing appeared before them both. Gabriel was already eating.

"You were saying...?" Dean invited him to elaborate. He looked at the plate, mouth watering, and dug in.

"Mmph," Gabriel muttered around a mouthful. He swallowed, and continued, "Well. I was lonely. It's Christmas, for Pop's sake! Here, have some wine." A delicate crystal wine glass appeared by each plate, filled to the brim. "So, yeah, Christmas. Baby bro's birthday - well, not really, but good enough, y'know. Time for families to get together? Catch up? Find out what everyone's been doing? Y'know, Pops, Auntie Amara, big bro Luci..." His bright eyes darted between the boys.

Sam toyed with his fork, turning it over and over, frowning at it. "Look. Gabriel. Why should we know anything about what God is doing? Or Lucifer?" He slanted a glance at the archangel.

Gabriel grinned slyly at him. "Hey, Sam, you're the one with the visions, right? So what's Pops saying to you? Gotta say, though, I'm not too sure it is Pops, if y'catch my drift..." He pursed his lips, wagged his eyebrows again. Dean looked at Sam significantly, as if to say, "See? I'm not the only one!" Sam frowned at him, then transferred his frown to Gabriel.

"Dude. There was a fucking burning bush." His voice made it final. Gabriel shrugged and Dean rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, well, everyone's heard that story!" Gabriel said skeptically. He peered from one to the other. Both brothers stolidly ate, ignoring him. He pouted. Then he sighed, slumped in his chair, stretched out his legs. "But really. I...um...missed you guys," he said reluctantly. "You make life interesting. It's been boring hiding away, pretending to be dead. Everyone believed it!" He sounded aggrieved. "Except for friggin' Metatron, the dweeb! Roped me into playing a bit part in his grand scheme for Cassie. Speaking of which - " He craned his head around. "Where is Cas? Why didn't he get to enjoy my happy holidays charade?" Dean shrugged, glaring down at his food. Sam made urgent shushing motions. Gabriel's eyebrows rose and he grimaced at Dean.

"Aw! Don't tell me you had a fight?!"

Dean's eyes flicked up, and he said, tightly, "Drop it, dude."

Gabriel grinned. "Well, damn! That's no good!" His eyes gleamed. He lifted his hand, snapped, and Cas appeared in the middle of the kitchen, black hair swirling in all directions, sapphire eyes blinking, tie askew, and trenchcoat drooping.