Snow fell over the ancient skeletons before them. This was far and away one of the worst things they had ever done, but Dean didn't see how they had a choice. If the Indian, or, well, Native American, ghosts were causing a severe winter in November who knew what else they could do if they got pissed enough. Still, it felt very wrong to be doing this, especially because these ghosts definitely had a right to be pissed.

"Alright, Sammy, dump the gasoline," Dean said. Cas was peering over his shoulder at the skeletons, and Ed and Harry were giggling like little girls. What the hell was Dean's love life to them? Dean lit a match only for a breeze to blow it out. "Son of a bitch," he muttered. He lit a second match, and gasped as an extremely powerful gust of wind slammed into his belly, throwing him backwards. He landed on top Cas, who wrapped his arms around him, trying to help them both stand up. Another slam knocked Dean to the ground, away from his angel. Dean looked up to see a tall, Native American man standing over him. "Son of a bitch," he groaned.

"What do you think you're doing?" asked the man in a deep voice.

"Hey, I'm not the one who made a giant snow storm!" Dean said.

"We did that because of people like you."

"People like me? What is that supposed to mean?"

"People who make judgments based off of insignificant traits which people can't help. Is it our fault that our skin is a different shade then yours? Yet your people persecuted us. Now tomorrow many will celebrate a friendship between the white man and the Native Americans."

"Sammy, burn the bones!" Dean called, unable to stand up. He tossed his little brother the matches, and Sam caught them. He lit one, and threw it into the pile of bones before the ghost could stop him. In a flash of smoke and flames, the figure standing over Dean was gone. Cas was helping Dean up, and holding him in his arms. Dean pressed his face into his angel's chest, glad of the embrace.

"Dean are you OK?" Sam asked.

"Yeah," Dean gasped.
"Are you sure?" asked Ed.

"We have a first aid kit in the car," Harry said.

"I'm fine, thanks," Dean said, pulling away from Cas.

"Dean, what was that ghost talking about?" Sam asked. "What did he mean people who don't accept others?"

"I have no idea," Dean said slowly. That was a lie, though. He had a pretty good idea what the ghost had meant. He realized that his throat no longer hurt, and his nose didn't seem to be pouring anymore. It occurred to him that the ghosts might have been responsible for his illness, as well as the unusual weather. He also had an idea of why he, and not Sam, had gotten sick. So maybe he hadn't been honest with himself about his reasons for freaking out when he thoughtlessly kissed Cas in front of Sam. Maybe had hadn't even been honest with himself about why he continued to hit on every girl he met when he had someone he shared a profound bond with. He hadn't accepted himself. His brother accepted him. Cas accepted him. Even the Ghostfacers were worried about him when the ghost knocked him down. Dean realized that it all came down to one thing. They were all good guys, saving people, hunting things. So who cared about anyone's sexuality, or race? Who cared about past petty differences? Dean had this epiphany in silence as he leaned forwards, and shamelessly kissed Castiel, wrapping his arms around his angel's neck, and ignoring his little brother's gagging sounds, and the Ghostfacer's gasps.

"Hey," Dean said, as he pulled away from Cas, much to the angel's chagrin. "Do you guys want to have Thanksgiving dinner with us tomorrow?" Everyone stared at Dean in shock. It wasn't like him, but he didn't care. He was going to ask them before he changed his mind. After all, they were all ghost hunters. So maybe they didn't always get along, but there were more important things than petty feuds.

"S-sure," Ed said.

"Y-yeah," Harry agreed. They made the plans, and Sam Dean and Cas headed back to their hotel room, Sam and Cas staring at Dean in shock. They didn't need to know about his realization, what mattered was that he knew. He knew, and he accepted himself for the first time in forever.

Dean and Cas weren't the only men holding hands as they walked away from the graveyard. Dean noticed from the corner of his eye as Ed took Harry's hand, and Harry kissed him on the cheek. Maybe the Ghosfacers had been annoying in the past, but maybe they had also learned something from this experience. Maybe Dean wasn't the only one to have a little epiphany.