It had been Christmas Eve. In some places, families gathered around tables filled to bursting with holiday food. In some places that had been the time for gift exchanges and communal family gatherings. The warmth of home and hearth inviting one and all to partake in the collective occasion. For many, the day prior had been filled with hustle and bustle, frustration and solitary efforts. It is the unusual irony of the season. Many lose site of the irony and just continue to plow ahead without regard to the things that are being plowed over.

There are after all many distractions. The lights that glow out from storefronts proclaiming the best prices on the things that your family wants, needs. Thus the masses flock to the stores, the online purveyors, the varied places where they can find the gift that makes someone feel special. All the while they are not together. They are plotting and planning, buying and wrapping, scurrying about in many solitary efforts to bring about a spark of holiday joy.

It isn't until all of this rush finally collides with Christmas Eve that the true gift of the holiday season can be felt. Instead of brightly wrapped packages under light speckled trees it is the coming together of the people that matter. Children gathered in anticipation, parents and grandparents sitting cozy by the hearth, warm with food and love and the presence of each other, these are the moments that are the gift.

The world gets wrapped up in the gifts. What it means to give, truly give, is a concept that is questioned with constant regularity during this season. There are even signs that grace street corners and windows proclaiming that it 'Tis the Season of Giving. And there are gifts on that Christmas Eve that were worth so much, gifts of time and love. Gifts that could not be wrapped up in festive paper with colorful bows.

Some gifts are given constantly, and the world just cannot pause for long enough to savor them. One need only look out at the night sky full of stars to see the broad expanse of seemingly tiny lights shining out of the darkness. One need only fill one's mind with the vast expanse of stories and dreams collected in the brilliance of each little spot of brightness in the dark canvas. This gift of nature, this gift of stars is always there, always shining down, too present sometimes to be noticed.

It was the star in the east that the wise men followed. It was the star in the east that lead them onward with their gifts. It was the star that told them a tale in all of its brightness. The stars still tell a tale, if one has a mind to look up and see it.

There are most definitely stories in the stars. Those stories are gifts. There are whole worlds of heroes and legends traced out in them, born of the imaginations and dreams of men. The invisible lines that make up the constellations were once the paths of an angel racing to feel the contrast of temperatures in the vast emptiness. Those little pinpricks of light found their places in children's stories too. For some children had been told that the stars twinkled when an angel passed on the other side of them. For the stars in those stories were windows to heaven. Perhaps in some ways they were. The stars sparked imaginations. They made men dream of something beyond the world beneath their feet. The stars made them aspire to greatness. For if they were out there, then what more might there be that they could not see?

For there is always more than the world can see. More than the tangible laid out in front of us. The tangible things from the gifts beneath the trees to the stars shining over us all serve to remind us of the greatest gifts that we can give to one another. They remind us of the things that we forget, the things we leave behind when we rush and and fumble. They remind us to pause and just give ourselves. And when we do, when we take the time to just be, just love, then we have truly given a gift that is worthy, a gift that matters, a gift that lives.

So, on that night, gifts were given. Gifts of love underneath starlight. There were those that felt like they had received more than they deserved. There were those that had regrets. There were those that just loved. Then there were those that did all of that, but still carried the lingering need to plan, to plot, to fix.

And high above them, beyond the stars, the universe looked down on them with favor. For love is the greatest gift of all, and with it, sometimes, one can heal the most damaged of things. The magi knew this when they carried their gifts to the newborn child. Lovers know this when cradled in the warmth of their loved one's arms. Sometimes even, it is known without anything being said or done. It is felt like electricity from nearby stormclouds. And love when it is felt like this, when it is given, is the wisest most lasting gift of all.

Castiel had been less than honest with Dean. He did not feel bad about it as he held him in his arms. His fair hair pressed flat on the side of his face where he had been laying before Castiel had scooped him up to him. He had worried about waking him, but he gave up that worry for the comfort of just holding him. Dean did not stir much. He just kept on laying there in Castiel's arms, smooth, even breaths ghosting out of his slightly parted lips.

Eventually, he woke up, and Castiel was a little disappointed. He stood and got dressed. Castiel watched for a bit then said, "Why bother, I'll just have to take them off of you again."

Dean smiled at him, "I am going to call Sam. I want to talk to him one more time." And with those words the spell from the other night was broken.

"Oh. Okay, Dean." Castiel got up then too, and began putting on his own clothing. Dean seemed to see the effect that his words had, and he moved back over to him and pulled him into a kiss.

"It'll be okay, Cas."

"No, Dean. It won't. It won't ever be okay." He ran his hand up to his face and held it until Dean turned back to his task. Once dressed he pulled out his phone and walked off to have a private conversation with Sam.

He knew that Dean would never forgive him, but he couldn't do what Dean asked of him. He just couldn't. He walked over to the water's edge and looked down at the items all burned out and defeated looking. Like me. He saw Dean down the beach a ways. He looked like he was talking, but he couldn't hear him at this distance. He ran his fingers along the edges of the items and saw a little spark of life lingering in each one. He smiled, knowing that it would be enough.

Dean was coming back now. "Everything okay, Cas?" He stood just behind Castiel when he spoke. Castiel stood up then and nodded.

"How's Sam?"

"Good. He had a lot of questions. I told him that I would explain everything when I got home. You will need to do that for me." Dean walked over to Castiel and put his hand on his shoulder.

Castiel tipped his head back and stared up into the too bright sky. It was blue and cloudless. The winter bite of air provided a stark contrast to it as it looked like it should be warm with summer promise. Castiel could feel Dean's fingers pressing comfort into him. His thumb rubbed back and forth on his neck like Dean just knew what this was doing to him. "They are beautiful."

"What is?" Dean tried to follow the path of Castiel's gaze up to the sky.

"The stars." Castiel continued to stare off at the bright sun soaked sky. His face awash in light seemed pleased and momentarily content.

Dean stepped to his side and said, "Hate to break it to you, Cas, but the stars aren't out right now."

Castiel turned to him and placed his hands on his cheeks. His fingers wrapped just a little behind his head, back into his hair. "I hate to tear down your illusions, Dean, but the stars have not gone away. The sun is just so bright that you can't see them. They are there, though, always. I had forgotten. I had started seeing things like a human. I had forgotten that sometimes we have to see past the brightness of one thing in order to take in the beauty of all of the other little spots of light."

Dean looked out at the sky again, then returned his gaze to Castiel. "So, you understand why we have to do this, why I have to ask this of you?"

"I understand things now, Dean, that I didn't understand before, but there are things that you need to understand too, before I do this. They are important." He pressed his fingers more to Dean's neck, rubbing his thumbs along Dean's jaw line. He felt Dean's hands move to his back, fingers kneading at his muscles there.

"It's okay, Cas. Tell me." Dean encouraged and Cas took a deep needless breath.

"First, know that I have loved you more than I ever should have, and that I will continue to do so." He seemed to struggle for words before continuing. "There is a reason that the cure did not last before. We cured you of the demon for a time, but no great sacrifice was made to make it stick. That was the greatest problem that Cain had faced for millenium after millenium. That was the part that the biblical scholars got right. The curse ostracized him. No one would really go near him. Why would anyone sacrifice anything for someone that they didn't know? Why would anyone want to help him shed this curse, if it meant that they would have to take it on?" Castiel dipped his head down to Dean's chest then and fell silent.

"Then I came along, huh. Saved him from his stupid curse without even knowing him."

"Yes, you did. You always were too willing to throw yourself on the pyre, be the martyr. The magi were like that too. They understood what it meant to give of themselves in order to protect something that mattered. They stood out on the wide desert plains, under the canopy of stars and called down the light. The light, the grace, gave them purpose. It was what mattered, what was worthy." Cas tipped his head back again and looked long into Dean's eyes.

"This is a worthy cause, Cas. We will save people by doing this. I know that I seem okay right now, but it won't last. It has to be this way."

"I know that this is a worthy cause, just as I have always known that you are a worthy man. It is your selflessness that will always surprise me the most, how quick you always are to give to others what you think that they need. Even last night, you chose to be with me, merely because you felt that I needed that."

Dean interrupted him then, pressing his lips down to Castiel's in a rough, desperate kiss. His hands moved up to Castiel's face, holding him there, pressing need and want and desire into the moment. Castiel responded to it. His hands dropping down to Dean's chest, fingers feeling each deep beat of Dean's heart. Dean broke away. "I won't let you confuse what last night was for me, for either of us. I wanted that. Me. I was selfish. I needed you to be mine before I gave up everything. I told you that I loved you, Cas. How often have you heard me say that?" Castiel just looked at him.

"Just then."

"Exactly, so don't you go off telling yourself that you were some sort of charity case last night. You were more than that. I wish that I had given you something that mattered, something worthy of what you have given to me." Dean kissed him again and Castiel let him.

"You have." His voice dropped low and they stood there for a time, just holding each other. "We should have talked more."

"There were a lot of things that we should have done more of." Dean's half smile made Castiel laugh a little, then he was serious again.

"Even now, Dean, you manage to focus on all the wrong things."

"Nah, that's where you are wrong, Cas. This is what we should have been focusing on all along. Maybe then we wouldn't be dealing with this now. I wish that I would have seen this all, let myself see this." He ran his hand down Castiel's arm until he reached his hand. They twined their fingers together. "So, you said that the reason that the cure didn't work permanently was because there was no sacrifice attached to it. I guess that I don't see why that matters now. We aren't dealing with a cure anymore."

"It matters. We can't get rid of the problem without a great sacrifice." Castiel was not looking at him now. He was afraid that Dean would realize. He wasn't ready for him to realize. He wanted to draw this out for as long as he could. He wanted to make each second with Dean an eternity. He needed this. He needed it to last.

Dean's voice was cautious, low and on the cusp of angry, "What are you saying, Cas?"

"The magi were just men. They wandered the deserts with one intent, to give of themselves to the holy child. They viewed this cause as worthy, perhaps the most worthy cause of all. For what could be greater than to sacrifice your life for the love of mankind. They saw this child's potential, his greatness." Dean's hand gripped Castiel's fiercely the more he spoke, but this did not stop him. "They knew what they would have to give, and they did it without hesitation. They made their way through the desert, and under the night stars they heard the songs of the angels. It was as though the very stars themselves were singing out to them." Dean's other hand was squeezing Castiel's arm, seeming to propel him toward the end of his story.

After a moment Castiel continued. "I was there then. I watched from the stars. I watched them call down the grace. I watched the magi take in the angelic forms, their bodies giving up the souls of the men that had inhabited them before. They had never even seen the child, never knew just how all of their choices would play out, but they did it just the same. It was like it had been with Jimmy Novak. When he chose to give up his body for a cause that I had told him was worthy. He trusted, blindly and completely. It was everything that was so beautiful about humanity."

"Cas, I need you to tell me that you haven't done anything stupid. I need you to tell me that you haven't come up with some new plan to save me." Dean sounded desperate. His face pained, just a breath from Castiel's.

"I have always had the same plan. It just hurts more now. I just didn't realize how hard it would be to leave you."

"What are you saying? Don't you dare. Don't you dare do something stupid. I already decided how this ends. I don't want you making some sort of sacrifice for me. I am ready for this to end, Cas. You gotta know that I am ready." Dean was breathing hard now.

"You don't understand, Dean. I can't kill you. Even if I wanted to, I can't kill you. I never could. It is the nature of the curse." Castiel spoke slowly, carefully, so that his words would sink in.

"No. There has to be a way. You just haven't wanted to think about it, but there has to be a way. I can't risk hurting anyone again, I just can't. I can't be that thing." Dean's eyes pooled up, fear was blooming in him.

"There is a way to fix this. You can transfer the mark to someone worthy, someone willing to take on the turmoil and torment that it will unleash. You can transfer the mark to someone willing to make the sacrifice." Castiel stared into Dean's eyes asking him to accept this.

"No." That one word, and Castiel felt like he was losing.

"Yes. I will take the mark." Castiel held out his arm to Dean.

"It won't work. You are not human. You are an angel. It won't work."

"It won't be the same as it was for you or for Cain. That much is true."

"What do you mean?"

Castiel hesitated. He knew that Dean would not accept it if he knew. So he turned away from Dean and breathed out one small word into each of the vessels containing the remnants of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. The smoke curled up from each and twisted into the air around the water's edge. Castiel turned back to Dean. There had been three words that one could use in the ceremony, one that would draw the grace, the word that he had used before. Then, there was another word, a word that would allow him to release the grace. He stepped back to Dean and held out his hands to him. Dean took a small step back. "It is too late Dean. It is already done." It wasn't, but it didn't matter. He needed Dean to stay close. He didn't need his consent; he just needed proximity. He didn't even need to have Dean willingly give up the mark. "Thank you, Dean, for giving me all of this."

"All of what? What are you doing, Cas." He was desperate, and it showed in his tone, in the terror that filled his eyes.

"For love, for your example, for your…" He stepped toward him and Dean did not retreat. "For everything. I love you, and it is everything."

"Don't do this, Cas. Whatever this is, don't do this." Dean was freaking out. A tear was tracing the contours of his cheek. He held Castiel tightly and then Castiel stepped closer and pressed a kiss to him. It was not just a kiss though, it was the final step. He could have cut the grace out, but he thought that it was likely that Dean would understand that he could resist, leave him. Instead he let the grace flow from him into Dean. For a time, he thought that it might not work. Grace could not just exist in any old human, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized that Dean was not just any old human. He was the Righteous Man. He was the chosen vessel. If he could be that, then he could hold the grace of a lesser angel. Castiel had hoped that he was right, he had banked on it.

He had also banked on the fact that one could not be both a knight of Hell and an angel of the Lord at the same time. He had watched the light and the dark flowing throughout Dean. He had noted how his touch and presence had managed to push away the dark. He had noticed the way that Dean's light, his soul, had grown stronger after Rhyolite. Hannah had understood his path. She had understood what he had needed. She had with one touch to Dean's hand on the cold desert ground broken some of the hold that the darkness had on his soul. She had said that it was an abomination. Castiel understood now, that she meant him and what he was doing to himself, by tearing out his grace and taking in a demon.

Since that night, Dean's soul had glowed out from him. Castiel had stared at it long into the night. His eyes fixed on it, memorizing it, loving it, wishing that he could have just a bit more time to study it. He knew, though, that if he did not follow through, that the darkness would come back. Some fight would draw Dean in, and the inevitable violence would push back the light again. This had to happen now, while Dean was still Dean.

The kiss glowed between them. The light pulsed out and into Dean. They clung to each other. Castiel could feel himself growing weaker. Dean was trying to push him away now, but he couldn't. The grace was keeping them locked like this. Then Castiel felt the invasion of his form from the darkness. His body shuddered as he pressed his arm to Dean's. Dean had not given this to him, but it came to him just the same. It could not stay behind on the angel, and that was what Dean was now. He was for all intents and purposes an angel. Castiel felt the kiss end. He felt the loss of strength in his limbs. His legs buckled beneath him. His head rocked back, sharp and heavy.

Dean caught him. "No, no, no, Cas! Don't leave me. Don't you dare leave." He slumped down to the sand with Castiel in his arms. "No, no, no. Come on Cas, please." He was rocking him back and forth. "You can't leave me like this. I need you, Cas. I need you."

Castiel couldn't reply. He could only hear him. The darkness that he had taken in had taken root. It swirled and twisted about in his body. It was not unlike the time before, with the Leviathans. He wanted to speak. He wanted to open his eyes. He could not. There was no strength left for that now. His body was breathing. He was human. He was demon. He was nothing, or would be soon enough. He could feel the pull of the items that were still near him. He turned his head and whispered one final word, with what little strength that he had left. The word that he hoped would end him, the word that he hoped would pull out the darkness. It was the third and final word that could do anything for them. The light from the vessels, the gifts of the magi, sent out one last tower of blue flame apiece. Then Castiel opened his eyes, black like the night sky above, and watched as the darkness poured from his mouth down to the water's edge and was taken away into the night.

The last thing that he saw was Dean, just Dean holding him. His face was pressed down to his. He was gripping his head in his hands, saying over and over, "Why, Cas, why?" Castiel couldn't answer, but he could smile. He gave Dean a small smile. His eyes were blue again. He was happy. It had worked. He could see the grace in Dean. He could see that the darkness was gone. He could see the way that the grace curled around Dean's soul. The two becoming one. He was happy with the knowledge that he would live on in a small way, although, not in a conscious way. He was happy that he had saved Dean, and that he would still be with Dean a little. This part, though, was a little difficult. Watching his sorrow. He felt loved in this moment, but it did little to ease the pain of watching Dean as he was falling apart.

He had told Sam that Dean would be different. He hoped that in his new form that Dean would no longer feel the constant pull toward violence, toward self-immolation. He believed that the grace would ground him a little, ironically enough. He felt peace descending on him. He closed his eyes. He heard a familiar sound, an aria of voices calling to him. He wondered if he would just cease to exist. He had no soul, no grace. He was just a husk of a man, empty now. He wondered with one last breath if there was anything of him that would carry on, or would it all just be left behind, to be buried, to turn to dust. And because his life was a gift to Dean, because his love was a gift, he did not feel sad as the stars above in the daytime sky faded out of his sight.