Well, we've reached the last Christmas story for the year! Thanks so much for everyone who offered prompts. I love being able to do these as a thank you to all you readers out there :)

This one is for Aini NuFire who, while everyone else was requesting fluffy christmas stories gave me "so what if there's a grinch ghost that steals presents and knocks people off roofs…" which shouldn't have surprised me because her previous prompts involved Santa being murdered and TFW getting trapped in a cursed snow globe :P And now you have a Christmas Case Fic so I hope everyone enjoys!

Also, this story I decided to set in my "Thing or Two About Being Human" AU with Human!Cas because I didn't get a chance to write a Christmas story for that series this year.

Also, I hope everyone has a lovely holiday! Thanks to everyone who has reviewed as well ^_^

Christmas Spirits

For Aini NuFire

Castiel stood looking up at the roof of the house as Sam and Dean asked the wife of the unfortunate man who had fallen off of it questions about the accident. Of course, it could have just been from the snow, but with all the other things that had been going on in town, Castiel wasn't so sure it was that simple. That was why they were there after all.

"And you said the string of lights exploded before your husband fell off the roof?" Sam was asking as Castiel went back to join them. He glanced back at the roof, seeing the scorch marks on the eves where the ruined Christmas lights still hung.

"Yes," the woman said, running a hand tiredly over her face. "At least that's what I assumed. I was in the kitchen at the time. I just saw the burst of light and sparks and heard Tom fall off the roof." She hugged herself in the chill air. "Look, I really need to get to the hospital to look after my husband."

"No problem, I think you told us everything we need to know," Dean assured her as she gratefully turned back inside.

"Well, what are you thinking?" Dean asked as he turned to Sam and Cas.

Sam's brow furrowed. "Well, I want to say ghost, with the instances of exploding lights, but that's not the only thing that's happened."

"Yes, there were the thefts too," Castiel stated. "And that is a bit strange for ghosts, usually, isn't it?"

They had first come across the case because of several reports in this small town in upstate Missouri where Christmas lights had exploded at random, sometimes, causing people to fall off roofs when putting them on the outside of the house, and a couple causing fires inside. But once they had gotten to the town and done some investigating, they had found out that there was more to it than that. Some of the houses had been robbed, Christmas presents disappearing from under the trees, and decorations smashed.

"A ghost that really hates Christmas?" Dean shrugged. "It could happen, I guess."

"I just hope we figure it out soon," Sam said. "It's three days to Christmas and the town is getting anxious to find out what's going on."

"Well, I'm gonna head to the local police station and look through all the reports that they have on file," Dean said. "Why don't I drop you and Cas back at the motel and you can look into any history or deaths around this time of year that might cause the ghost of Christmas past to swear vengeance."

"Sounds good," Sam said and the three of them headed to the Impala.

Cas pulled his coat closer around himself. He was still adjusting to the cold weather being human now, and it was colder here than it was back in Lebanon, plus he had kind of been looking forward to sharing Christmas with the Winchesters that year. But duty called, and a hunter's job was never done. He just hoped that Trouble wasn't getting too lonely back at the bunker by himself.

Dean dropped them off at the motel and Castiel and Sam took out their laptops and began to research.

Several hours later, Dean returned with food and a lift of all the victims that had gotten on the bad side of whatever they were dealing with.

"What did you find out?" Sam asked him.

Dean sat down at the table and handed out boxes of Chinese take out. "Well, I looked through every report filed from the thefts to the accidents to the fires and so far the good thing is that there haven't been any deaths, just injuries and property damage, but as you know, when angry spirits really start to get going things can escalate quickly."

"But were there any patterns?" Castiel asked.

Dean shrugged. "Not that I could see. Though obviously, all of the victims were going all out for Christmas. Lights, decorations, the whole nine."

"So maybe we have a Scrooge on our hands," Sam suggested, clicking through some of the windows he had open on his laptop. "Someone who just plain hates Christmas."

"Or a Grinch," Dean said. "What about you, you find anything."

"Yeah, a few things, actually," Sam said, and turned his computer around to show Dean one of the articles he and Castiel had found. "About ten years back, a man, Rupert Clancy, was killed on Christmas Eve in a car crash on his way home from a business trip. His car was full of presents for his kids. The accident didn't happen too far from here."

Dean shrugged. "Yeah, but if it were him, don't you think he'd be out there causing accidents? Usually ghosts get revenge by doing the same thing that was done to them."

"True," Sam said.

"We also found this woman," Castiel said. "Susan Whitmark. Apparently when still alive, she would always make a big fuss about any kind of neighborhood disturbance, especially around Christmas time, when she thought all the decorations people put up in their yard were 'garish'. I found several of the complaints she filed to the homeowners' association on record, but I don't think anyone did anything about them. Ironically she died on Christmas back in 1995."

"I suppose her complaints could have come from a general dislike of Christmas due to something that may have happened in her childhood," Sam offered.

"She sounds like a better candidate," Dean mused. "It say where she's buried?"

"Yes," Castiel said. "In a graveyard only a few miles from here."

"Well, I guess we're gonna do a little wassailing later," Dean said.

Later that night, they went to the graveyard with their shovels, salt and lighter fluid, and dug up Susan Whitmark's grave to burn her bones.

"How's that for the Christmas spirit?" Dean muttered wryly.

Castiel shook his head. It was never a pleasant thing to burn someone's bones, even if it did help to keep people safe."

"With any luck, she was the source of our problem and we can head out in the morning," Sam said as they refilled the grave and headed back to the Impala in the chill night air.

Unfortunately, as they were driving back to the motel, the sound of sirens blared and they could see red and blue flashing lights up ahead heading toward one of the housing developments.

"Crap," Dean muttered. "You think it's just a coincidence?"

"Better to be safe than sorry," Sam said.

Dean sighed and turned down the street, parking behind the police cars. The three of them got out, Castiel remembering to grab his fake FBI credentials from his coat before he joined Sam and Dean on the lawn.

"Agents," one of the policemen said, looking harried. "Glad you came so quickly. Looks like we got another disturbance."

"What happened this time?" Sam asked.

"Well, the call was a little confused, but it sounds like another theft. At least there weren't any injuries this time."

The three hunters followed the detective into the house where a man and woman sat on the couch, a little girl between them as one of the deputies stood in front of them, asking questions.

Castiel looked around and saw that the living room was a mess. The tree had been tipped over, glass from the broken ornaments crunched under his shoes and the few presents that were left had been crushed and thrown everywhere.

"I told you what I saw!" the little girl said insistently. "It was an invisible boy!"

Castiel, Sam and Dean all shared a look and Sam stepped toward the deputy, clearing his throat. "Do you mind if we question them a little?"

The deputy was about to protest, but the police detective who had followed the Winchesters in nodded toward the door. "Let them take over here, Fisher. We'll secure the perimeter and see if the culprit is still lurking around."

Once the police left, Sam turned back to the family and smiled, holding up his badge. "I'm Agent Young, these are Agents Johnson and Evans. Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?"

"There was an invisible boy!" the little girl insisted again.

"Rachel, shush," her mother said, looking lost, and still wearing her robe and sleep clothes. "I'm sorry, she doesn't know what she saw."

"Actually, would you mind if my partner and I talked to your daughter alone?" Sam asked, motioning to Castiel. "If you daughter thinks she saw something, we would like to know, no matter how unlikely it sounds."

Rachel's mom and dad looked at each other and then gave in. "All right, I suppose."

Sam smiled and held out a hand for Rachel. "Hey, Rachel, my name is Sam and this is Cas, why don't we go talk in the kitchen while our partner talks to your mom and dad?"

Rachel nodded and got off the couch to follow them into the kitchen. She sat on a stool at the counter and Sam and Castiel took seats on the other side.

"So, Rachel, what exactly did you see?" Sam asked her.

"I was asleep in my room," the little girl said. "Then I heard something down here. Like something moving around. I thought that maybe Santa had come early and I wanted to see if he brought me anything. But when I came downstairs the Christmas tree was knocked over and that boy was taking my presents!"

"And you said the boy was invisible?" Castiel asked her.

She nodded her head.

"Rachel, why would you say that?" Sam asked. "If he was invisible, how did you know it was a boy?"

"Because I could see him," Rachel insisted. "But I could also see through him. And after he shoved all the presents into a bag, he disappeared!"

"You don't think he just went out the door or window?" Sam asked, though shared a knowing look with Cas.

"No," Rachel said firmly. "I know he didn't because after he disappeared I tried to go to the door to chase after him but it was locked, and then I thought the window was open because it was really cold in here but when I went to check, it wasn't."

"How old was the boy?" Castiel asked her. "What did he look like?"

Rachel scrunched up her face. "Well, he was maybe a little older than me, like the fourth-graders at school. And he wore dirty clothes."

"Well, thank you Rachel, you've been a big help," Sam told her and stood up as Rachel hopped down from her stool.

"Are you going to get my presents back?" she asked, looking sad.

"We'll do our best," Sam assured her.

They met Dean in the foyer and handed the crime scene back over to the police. "Well?" Dean asked as they stepped back outside.

"It's definitely a ghost," Sam said. "She described a see-through boy who disappeared and left the room cold."

"Unfortunately, we didn't find any young boys in the obituaries," Castiel said.

"Well, plan B I guess," Dean said, as he opened the driver's side door and climbed into the Impala. "Back to research."

A couple more hours back at the motel and a pot of coffee later, Sam was finally triumphant.

"Hey, I think I found something," he said, turning the computer around toward Dean and Castiel as well. "I was looking into major events from the town going back several decades, and I think I found our culprit, or culprits," Sam said and turned the computer back around so he could read the article he had found. "So, get this; there's an old orphanage in town, and I guess back in the day it wasn't much better than the one in Oliver Twist. Apparently one year, several kids were locked up in the basement as a punishment, not allowed the attend the Christmas dinner, and when most of the staff went home for the holidays, including the abusive headmaster who ordered their punishment, they died of exposure from the cold and hunger."

"Wow, merry Christmas," Dean muttered.

Castiel frowned, never liking to hear about children suffering.

"And what's more, is that this year marks the fifty year anniversary of their deaths," Sam said.

"Which usually causes all kinds of trouble," Dean agreed. "So, you got angry orphan kids who couldn't take part in Christmas, instead left to freeze and starve to death, so now they're determined to ruin it for everyone else too. Yeah, that sounds about right."

"Is the orphanage still there?" Castiel asked.

Sam nodded. "Yes, only now it's a children's hospital and obviously is under new management. Apparently the orphanage was disbanded after the headmaster died—oddly only about a year after the incident with the kids." He clicked through several more websites. "Oh, crap. It looks like they're holding a yearly Christmas party for the kids tomorrow night on Christmas Eve. How much you wanna bet that the bitter ghost kids are going to make an appearance?"

Dean snorted. "No way they're gonna pass up the chance. Well, let's sleep on it tonight and see what we can do tomorrow."

The three hunters stood outside the newly revamped orphanage the next night. Sam had called earlier, under the guise of their FBI personas and told the proprietors that with all the vandalism going on, they wanted to make sure everyone was safe for the party. So they went in plain clothes.

"We'll just wander around and keep an eye out for anything suspicious," Dean assured one of the head doctors who had met them at the door.

"Are you sure it's safe for the party to go on?" she asked.

"Oh, don't worry, let the kids have their fun," Sam said with a reassuring smile. "We're really just here for precautions."

"Well, okay, as long as you're sure," she said.

Once they were left to their own devices, Dean nodded to Sam and Cas. "I'll stay up here and keep an eye on the party. You and Cas go check out the basement."

Sam snorted. "Dude, are you just staying up here to eat the snacks?"

"No," Dean replied defensively, if not a little sheepishly.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Just call if you need help."

"Same to you," Dean said and they parted ways.

Castiel and Sam found a stairwell and took it down to the lowest floor of the building. They held iron crowbars that they had taken out of their bags. They had their shot guns too, but didn't want to use them unless they had to, not wanting to startle the kids celebrating up above.

The new, inviting décor of the building disappeared as they went to the lower floors. In fact, down here, nothing looked like it had changed since the place had been a poorly run orphanage. Not to mention the fact that it was only getting colder the further they went.

Castiel zipped his jacket up, and could see his breath puff into a cloud in front of him. Then in front of them, down the stairs, he saw a shadow slip across the landing.

"Sam," he said.

"I saw it," Sam said. "I think we're almost there."

"What are we going to do when we find them?" Castiel asked. "Since the bodies were cremated we'll have to find the source."

"Yeah," Sam nodded. "I guess we'll know it when we find it."

"Should we call Dean?" Cas asked, as he heard the sound of faraway voices below.

Sam nodded again. "Probably a good idea."

But as Cas pulled out his phone to tell Dean they were close, he got that feeling of goosebumps up his spine and the hair stood up on the back of his neck. Sam seemed to feel something too, because he spun around and his eyes widened as he looked behind Cas.

"Cas, watch out!" he cried.

Castiel turned, just in time to be hit in the side of the head with a plank of wood, wielded by a ghostly child. He crashed sideways into Sam and the two of them tumbled helplessly down the stairs until Castiel's vision went completely black, thankfully before he hit the bottom.

Castiel started awake with the feeling of ice-cold hands yanking on a fistful of his hair. He groaned and lifted an aching head.

"Wake up!" said a young voice. "It's Christmas!"

Castiel blinked his eyes clear, his head pounding as he shuffled to sit up and look around. He heard Sam groan next to him and glanced over to see the younger Winchester propping himself up against the wall. He had a bleeding bump on one side of his head, but otherwise, he looked okay.

The whole basement was covered in presents, likely the ones pilfered from under the trees of the vandalized houses. There were also some sorry strings of Christmas lights hung awkwardly around the small space, giving the place a garishly festive look.

In the middle of all of it, stood three figures, two boys and a girl, about ten-to twelve years of age.

"What do you want?" Sam asked them, trying to keep his voice reasonable.

"We want to have a Christmas this year," one of the boys said. "They left us down here to starve. We were so hungry."

"And so cold," the little girl added, hugging her arms around herself.

"And the headmaster was an evil man," the first little boy spat viciously. "He always beat us, and he left us down here."

Castiel sat up straighter. "That wasn't nice of him to do," he said. "But that doesn't mean that you should ruin Christmas for the other children."

"Why should they have a nice holiday when we can't?" the first boy, who seemed to be the leader of the trio, asked. "How is that fair? We are only taking what we deserve!"

"But you're hurting people," Sam said. "You knocked people off of roofs and started fires. People could have died."

"We did," said the second little boy so grimly it caused a chill to go down Castiel's spine.

"We know," the ex-angel said, holding out his hands. "But you can help us make things right now."

"No we won't!" the first boy said. "Every year we relive it. Just like when he put us in here the first time! This is the first year we've been able to leave, been strong enough to do anything! All we had was one candle and it didn't last the night!"

Sam glanced over to a corner of the room where a candleholder sat, old and rusted. He shared a glance with Castiel. That had to be it, the object that was closest to the children when they died, the object that had witnessed the extent of their suffering, probably they took turns clutching it in their freezing hands until it guttered out. Castiel felt sick, thinking of the young lives that had been lost and at a time of year when Children were supposed to be safe, and warm, filled with love and joy.

"What happened to you wasn't right," he said. "But you can't hurt more people because of what happened to you. I know you don't want that, and it won't make what happened to you better."

"How can we help you?" Sam asked them.

"We want a Christmas," the boy said. "And one of you will be Santa."

"Okay," Sam said reasonably with a nod.

"We want to go to the party," the little girl stated and the boys nodded in agreement.

Sam shared a look with Castiel and the ex-angel nodded. "Okay, we'll take you to the party. You just have to come with us, okay?"

The ghosts of the children looked at each other and nodded. One pulled an old Santa coat and hat out of a pile and handed it to Sam. "Be Santa," the second boy said firmly.

Sam stood and took the outfit, shrugging it on. Castiel inched toward the candleholder while the children were distracted, hoping to grab it.

"Okay," Sam told them, now dressed in the ragged suit and held out his hands, motioning toward the stairs. "Let's go to the party."

But just then, a rush of freezing air washed through the room, and the Christmas lights guttered and snapped, several popping.

Castiel made a dive for the forgotten crowbar and snatched it up just as another ghostly figure appeared. This one was an angry old man, with a cruel twist of his lip. The children instantly cowered away from him, huddling together.

"There will be no party for you," the new ghost said, and Castiel didn't have to guess who this was. The headmaster. Perhaps that was why the Children had been forced to relive their horrifying death each year. The ghost of their old headmaster was keeping them captive.

"You've been very naughty, running away every night," the man's ghost spat. "I aught to teach you a lesson."

Cas leapt forward and swung the crowbar at the ghost, dispersing it instantly into the ether.

"He's back," the children whimpered.

Sam tore off the Santa outfit and hurried to his bag, which the kids seemed to have dumped unceremoniously at the end of the stairs when Sam and Cas fell. He grabbed his shotgun out of there just as Cas saw the headmaster's ghost rematerialize.

"Sam!" he cried, and the hunter whipped around, bringing up the shotgun, only to have it ripped from his grasp as the ghost threw him across the room, where Sam crashed into a pile of rotted wood.

Castiel lunged forward but the ghost turned to him as well now, and before he could move, the string of lights above him, whipped downward and wrapped around his throat, hauling him off of his feet. Castiel dropped the crowbar to grab at the cord, choking helplessly as it only tightened.

The ghost of the headmaster grinned wickedly at Castiel and strode back to the children.

"Now you'll be punished," he said.

But the boy who led the others stood up straight and drew his shoulders back. "No! You'll be punished!"

Castiel watched through his blackening gaze as the three children surged toward the ghost of the headmaster and all grabbed him at once. Castiel wasn't sure exactly what was happening, but somehow the children seemed to be ripping him apart. The headmaster's spirit screamed before it disintegrated into nothing.

Castiel gasped in a breath as the wires instantly released him and he collapsed onto the floor, coughing and trying to draw air back into his lungs.

Sam grunted and crawled out of the pile of wood, eyes wide at what he had seen.

Feet pounded down the stairs, followed by Dean's frantic voice.

"Sam! Cas!"

He stopped as he came across the scene.

All three children stood, glowing, in light colored clothing. No longer dirty and haggard looking. They held hands and smiled.

"We're finally free of him," the little girl said.

"You can give the other children back their presents now," the boy told the hunters. "We're sorry."

Castiel smiled, despite still having a bit of trouble breathing. "Be at peace," he whispered to them. "Merry Christmas."

The children smiled again and then dispersed into the bright white flashes, of souls ascending to Heaven.

Once the scene ended, Dean was back to business, rushing toward Cas and Sam.

"Hey, you guys all right?" he asked, reaching out for Cas and helping him to his feet, peering at his throat, which Castiel was sure had bruises on it, then turning to Sam and taking stock of any injuries his brother might have had as well.

"I think we're okay, just a few bruises," Sam said with a wince, touching his head. "Maybe a concussion or two."

Castiel took in Dean's appearance for the first time and frowned. "What happened to you?"

Dean looked down at himself with a grunt. He was covered in what looked like cake frosting, and one sleeve was soaked in something sticky and red that looked like fruit punch.

"Yeah, not long before I came down here, all hell broke loose up at the party. Stuff started going full Poltergeist, shooting off the tables and crap was flying everywhere. It was a disaster." He shook his head. "That was one angry spirit, not to mention a dickbag. No wonder the kids were acting out."

"Well, at least they're at peace now," Castiel said.

"Yeah," Sam agreed with a somewhat relieved smile. "And we found all the presents that were stolen."

"So I guess that means we play Santa, right?" Dean asked blandly.

"It is Christmas Eve," Sam said.

Dean sighed. "Alright. Let's get this show on the road then."

They loaded all the presents up into the Impala and drove through the neighborhoods that had been vandalized, matching the names on the presents with the police reports as well as they could. It was late at night by the time they had finished, and started on the long drive back to Lebanon.

"I don't know about you, but I am looking forward to relaxing the next couple days," Dean said.

"Yeah, same here," Sam said.

Cas had to agree.

They got back to the bunker in the early hours of the morning, and the three weary hunters trooped inside.

Trouble greeted Cas as the ex-angel came in and he bent to pick up the cat who purred in contentment.

"Hey, what do you say we have some of that eggnog you bought the other day?" Sam suggested.

Dean had to smile. "Sure, but we're doing it right. We deserve it." He reached for a bottle of whisky and Sam poured three glasses as Cas gave Trouble a saucer of milk so he wouldn't feel left out.

"To a job well done," Dean said, holding up his glass toward the others as they all took their eggnog from the table.

"And Merry Christmas," Castiel added with a smile.

"Merry Christmas," Sam and Dean both echoed, smiling as well.

Castiel drank the eggnog, warmed by the whisky and also the feeling of contentment that he got to share this joyful holiday with the people he cared about most. His family.

He and the Winchesters retired to the library to watch a movie, and drink their eggnog, and Cas sat back on the couch with Trouble dozing, warm and soft in his lap, and he felt like he could never be happier than he was at this moment.

This, he decided, was what Christmas was supposed to be like.

Friday will be back to posting as usual. I have a brand new multi-chap story for you that's an episode AU of "Lily Sunder" Cas centric, with more whump, and lots of flashbacks :)

Until then, Merry Christmas everyone!