Part 1

"Why didn't you ever tell us about Saint Nickolas before?" Dean asked. He and Cas were sitting in a diner, waiting for their burgers to be ready. Sherlock, Sam, and John were back at the hotel reading up on how to summon Santa Clause. He had happily offered to pick up food for everyone as an excuse to get out of research, and Cas had agreed to come along. Dean was glad of this because it meant they could eat at the restaurant together, and therefore avoid going back to the books too soon. At the same time, he was worried about the topics that might come up, for instance the shift their friendship was taking. Of course, it had been on the brink of shifting since the moment their eyes met, and Castiel revealed that he was the one who had gripped Dean tight and raised him from perdition.

"I assumed you knew about him."

"How did you know that he gave Bobby the amulet?"

"Bobby told me."

"Seriously?" Dean couldn't believe Bobby would keep something like this from him.

"He assumed you two knew as well."

"I told Sam that Santa wasn't real. I'll never forget that. It was the same night I told him monsters were real."

"Well, Saint Nickolas is very real. I just have no idea how to summon him. No one has ever succeeded in seeing him except for the garrison. We watched the earth for countless years, so we saw many things no human ever could."

"Thanks for being Mr. Hopeful," Dean grumbled. "That's real helpful."

"I am just being honest," Cas snapped. Dean looked up in surprise. Cas looked pretty pissed. Dean reached across the table, and placed his hand over his friend's. Cas started to pull his hand away, but something in Dean's eyes must have convinced him not to. They stared into each other's face for several moments. Castiel's eyes seemed to contain every shade of blue. They were so gorgeous, and infinite, and they seemed to gaze right into Dean's soul, which he supposed, maybe they really could.

"Burgers for Dean and Cas!" called the woman at the counter. Dean stood up to get the burgers so fast he tripped over a high chair at the table next to him, and fell face first on the floor. The kid started crying. Her mom, who was at the soda fountain, came running over. Face burning, Dean stood up. He turned to her, and felt his cheeks blazing even more than before. She was a hot blonde with boobs that burst out of her white button up shirt, and wide, dumb looking eyes.

"I am so sorry!" Dean said.

"It's no biggie," she said. "You're fine."

"I uh, OK," Dean managed. The girl leaned over to make sure her kid was alright, and Dean tilted his head to get a better look at her ass. Cas was beside him in an instant with the bag of burgers in his hands. He tilted his head, and stared along with Dean. When the girl started to turn around, they both hurried to sit at their own table, and look at one another.

"She is hot," Dean whispered.

"So hot," Cas agreed. Dean grinned. This was one of the many reasons Cas would be the perfect boyfriend. He wasn't the jealous type. Dean had been thinking about this a lot lately, and he was starting to think maybe their profound bond could not handle the sexual tension after all.

It was not because of any weakness, though, but because of strength. They were drawn to each other, that much was obvious. Dean had attempted to resist, and it was making things weird between him and his best friend. Maybe the path of least resistance was best.

"I can read your mind, you know," Cas said. Dean glared.

"I told you to stop doing that!" he smacked Cas on the side of the head playfully. Cas looked hurt for a moment, and then realized that Dean was laughing. Dean smirked at the angel swatted his head back. His smirk faded as he fell off of his chair. Cas was at his side, helping him up in an instant.

"Dean, I am so sorry," Cas whispered as he yanked Dean to his feet. Dean wobbled as he stood up, his head spinning a bit. "Angel strength. I forget." Dean laughed weakly as he collapsed forward into Cas' arms.

"S' no biggie," he managed. His head was ringing. He looked into Cas' eyes, and he couldn't seem to resist.

Dean didn't care that they were in a crowded restaurant, or that the hot chick was watching them. He just cared about that beautiful, perfect, face inches from his own, and the strong arms around him. He just care that this was the man who had sacrificed everything for him. No one but his closest kin had ever done more for him. Dean leaned in, and pressed his lips against Castiel's. The angle hugged him close, and kissed him back, and Dean wrapped his arms around the angel's neck, and he liked the feeling of the embrace around his own waist.

"Let's get out of here," he whispered into the angel's lips.
"Agreed," Cas murmured. They forgot the food as they hurried out of the restaurant with their hands linked. Both of them were laughing like total idjits.

Dean jumped into the driver's seat of the Impala, and hit the gas. They zoomed through the streets of the quiet town, pulling into a darkened alley. Dean glanced around to make sure that no one was around before putting his baby in park. He hit play on one of his cassette tapes. "She was a fast machine, she kept her motor clean, she was the best damn woman that I've ever seen, knocking me out with those American thighs." He grinned as he smashed his lips against his angel's. He pressed himself on top of Cas, who lay back in the passenger seat, his arms still around Dean's waist. Dean thrust his hips against the angel's, kissing him on his lips, his cheeks, and his neck, everywhere. He unbuttoned the white shirt frantically. This was what he had wanted for so long.

"Cas," he gasped.

"Dean…" the angel moaned.

"I'm sorry I said we could never happen the other day. I was so afraid of losing you. You mean everything to me."

"You mean everything to me as well, Dean. I would do anything for you. I love you."

"I love you too." He fumbled with the zipped on Cas' pants, undoing it. He reached inside of his angel's underwear, and Castiel a sound of pleasure.

Within a few moments, the whole Impala was shaking violently. They were parked very far back in the alley, so that no one could see the car, and no one SHOULD have been able to hear anything. Yet, people passing the alley had to hurry along when they heard the moans and yells.

Part 2

John was shocked at the diligence with which Sherlock applied himself to researching something so obviously not real. This was so ridiculous. He groaned as he flipped the page in a book about summoning freaking Saint Nickolas.

"Sherlock, this is utter madness," he said, not for the first time.

"John, you said you trusted me," Sherlock said, glaring at him. The two of them were sitting beside the table in the hotel room on either side of Sam Winchester. Snow was cascading form the sky outside. It was sort of eerie how pleasant it should have been, but wasn't. It was almost supernatural the way the snow glimmered, reminding John that someone who loved the season far too much, was out there murdering innocents.

As it had been on an off all afternoon, Sherlock's comment shut John temporarily up. He did trust Sherlock. He really did. It was just that this was so insane. Santa's evil brother had not killed John's great aunt, or any of the others. That was impossible.

So why did Sherlock believe it? What had he seen that made him so certain these psychos were telling the truth? Of course, Sherlock had told John what he saw. A man with the shadow of angel's wings, and a monster dressed as Santa Claus, but with real claws.

Sherlock had been terrified when he thought that he saw the hound of Baskerville. So why was he taking this so calmly? John thought he knew why. Sherlock had been drugged then. He had not been in his right mind. Now he was in his right mind completely. Now he had evidence. He had seen, and now he believed. John realized that he needed to consider the possibility that this was all very real.

"Aha!" Sam said. Sherlock and John watched as Sam turned his laptop towards them. There was a picture of a wreath, mistletoe, and a Christmas tree with presents underneath. "It says here that the things that summon Saint Nickolas involve acts in the true spirit of Christmas. Cas said that Saint Nick really does go around to the houses of all of the nice children, it's just that they don't see him. Doing something in the true spirit of Christmas can't be that hard.

"What good will it do summoning this bugger, if we even can't see him?" John asked.

"Well, Cas is an angel. He will be able to see him, maybe even communicate with him," Sam replied, as if this was mere logic.

"Of course," John said. "Cas is an angel, so he will be able to see Santa Clause. That's good, not crazy at all."
"Those two are taking a long time," Sam commented. "All they had to do was pick up burgers, and I gave Dean some money to pick up pie. He said I owed it to him for making him sleep in the bed with Cas." Sam rolled his eyes. "Like he really minded," he mumbled. Just then, Dean and Cas entered the room. Dean had an arm around Cas' shoulder.

"Hey guys," Dean said, sounding dizzy. John noticed his fly was down. The supposed angel's tie was crooked, and his shirt was buttoned unevenly, skipping random buttons. Cas' hair was always a mess, but it looked especially rumpled. Dean's hair was also sticking out in every direction.

"Um…" Sam said, staring at his brother. "Where's our food?"

"Oh yeah…That," Dean said. He shrugged. "We um, we forgot."

"Did you now?" John asked.

"Did you even forget pie?" Sam asked. Dean looked horrified.

"Oh, son of a bitch!" he groaned. John gasped as Cas suddenly disappeared. Sherlock just nodded, and Sam didn't even seem to be phased. Dean just looked a little disappointed until Cas appeared beside him again, holding the burgers, and a clear grocery bag with a tin of pie in it.

Dean leaned in, and gave Cas a huge, messy kiss. Sam coughed. Sherlock look away. John stared, his jaw dropped. What the hell was happening? Was he dreaming? This man had just disappeared and reappeared with burgers and pie. Why the bloody hell was everyone so calm?

"I did tell you," Sherlock said.

"Yeah, that you did," John said. He sat down on the bed, hyperventilating a little. This was real. This was really real. Angels were real. He supposed that meant monsters, demons, and everything else they had described was real.

Did this mean the apocalypse had really almost happened, and these three clowns had stopped it? John buried his face in a pillow. He felt Sherlock sit down beside him on the bed, and place a comforting hand on John's back. He was freaking out. How? How was this happening? None of it made any bloody sense. Santa Clause, his evil brother, and an angel that magically brought pie to his boyfriend?