When Castiel receives a prayer from Dean asking him to go to Bobby's house, he does so quickly, fearing the Winchesters might need help despite the relaxed tone of the prayer. He swiftly flies to Bobby Singer's kitchen and finds Sam and Dean at the table with a beer each.
"Hey, Cas," Dean is quick to greet, standing up.
The angel looks around with the vigilance of a hawk looking over its young, wondering where the danger is. When he both sees and senses nothing, he asks, "Are you in trouble?"
"Why would you think that?" Sam asks in return.
"You asked me to be here," Castiel states, tilting his head.
Dean raises an eyebrow and takes a sip of beer. "And?"
"You only do that when you need something."
Sam and Dean look at each other guiltily before the older Winchester just says, "Yeah, well, not this time, buddy."
The angel surveys the room and notices a string of small lights wrapped around the window facing the front of the property. Further inspection proves that this window is not alone in that aspect, as the one living room window he's able to see also has lights around it.
"Why are there small lights surrounding the windows?" Castiel asks, drawing both brothers' attention. "I am unfamiliar with the purpose of this. Is it some type of warding or a summoning ritual?"
"Not everything we do is for hunting monsters, Cas," Dean gripes.
"Uh, yeah, Dean, it kind of is," Sam cuts in, earning him a glare from his brother. Sam then turns to him with a soft smile. "It's Christmas stuff, Cas."
"I am unfamiliar with that term. Who is Chris and why is he missing? And what purpose would strings of impractically small lights serve in locating Chris if they are not part of a summoning ritual?"
Dean gives an annoyed sigh. "Not Missing Chris—which sounds dangerously close to the name of some crappy Hallmark chick flick movie, by the way." Castiel doesn't even pretend to know what that means. Upon seeing his blank look, Dean asks in apparent disbelief, "Really? You and your feathery friends Up There don't celebrate Christmas? I thought Jesus' birthday would be a big deal for you."
"'Jesus'...birthday'?" Castiel repeats.
"Yeah, but it's basically celebrated all December, the lucky bastard. Y'know, Christmas," Dean supplies.
The angel squints at him like he's speaking a different language and carefully steps around commenting on Dean's rather blasphemous statement. "But...he wasn't born in December…"
"He wasn't?" Sam is apparently stunned by the news.
Dean, meanwhile, is more curious. "Wait, have you actually met Jesus? Like, Son of God, Jesus?"
"No, of course not. He was crucified long before I came into existence," Castiel tells them.
Sam frowns at him. "I thought all the angels were made before humans."
"Most were. I'm Heaven's youngest angel," he explains earnestly, earning him a surprised look from both brothers in surprise and awe. "...what?"
"You really are just a...baby in a trench coat," Dean suddenly coos with a face-splitting grin. "Hear that, Sammy? We're in the company of a little baby angel of the Lord."
Castiel squints at both of them. "I'm still much older than both of you," he remarks. "In any case, I fail to see how this is relevant to the multicolored light summoning ritual—"
"Not a ritual, Cas. Christmas," Dean cuts in. "It's a holiday filled with presents and trees and family and snow and wrapping paper. All that fun stuff."
"That sounds...chaotic," Castiel comments dolefully, frowning to himself. "Does this 'Christmas' take place outdoors if it involves trees and snow?"
Dean just sighs at that question over the sound of Sam's quiet snickering before taking him by the shoulder and steering him into Bobby Singer's living room. Inside the room is, noticeably, a large pine tree. At its base is a small tray of rounded spheres with hooks on the end, and more coiled strings of small lights.
Castiel furrows his brow and turns to Dean. "I don't understand."
"This is a Christmas tree, Cas," Sam supplies kindly, though he looks amused. "You put one up each year in your living room and put presents under it."
"For what purpose?" he asks, pacing around the part of the tree that isn't against the wall thoughtfully, tilting his head this way and that as he tries to discern whether it is warded or not. "Is it enchanted to protect the gifts?"
"No. No monsters, no magic," Dean tells him, pinching the bridge of his nose in what Castiel recognizes as annoyance. "It's just for fun. Now are you gonna help us decorate or what?"
"Ah, of course. How do I do that?"
"Well, first Sammy the Abominable is gonna string the lights up around the tree," Dean says, and Sam rolls his eyes but does so as Castiel watches in almost childlike wonder. "Hey, missed a spot!" he calls after a moment, and Sam glares at him and throws a small sphere at him.
"What's that?" the angel asks when Dean catches it in midair and smirks, cutting in before the man can throw it back at his brother. For the Righteous Man designated to save them all from the coming Apocalypse, Dean can be incredibly immature.
"Just a decoration. You hang them on the branches. Watch." Dean goes over to the tree and steps close to it. By the time he steps away, the sphere is dangling precariously off the end of a branch. The next thing Castiel knows, a red bulb is shoved into his hands. "See? You try."
He steps forward and tries to copy Dean's actions by pushing the sphere at the branch. When the angel lets go, however, instead of hanging on the branch like Dean's had, it falls to the wooden floor and shatters, leaving small bits of red painted glass on the floor.
Castiel turns to face Dean with wide, betrayed eyes. Dean rushes to pick up another bulb, quickly assuring, "It's all right, Cas. You just forgot to hook it on. Here, like this."
As Sam finishes with the lights, Dean shows him how to move the hook on top of the bulb to make it cling to the tree branch. Nodding to himself, Castiel copies his actions, setting his next sphere directly beside Dean's and making sure to hook it on. This time, his ornament stays on the tree.
Castiel smiles up at Dean in barely contained pride, which causes the man to smile back at him. Just then, the entire tree lights up with a mix of a few colors, the most favoring grey or white—just like the windows.
"Oh!" he says in surprise.
Dean chuckles to himself and hands him another ornament. "C'mon, let's get this all set up before Bobby comes back from his hunt."
"Try spacing them out a little more," Sam instructs him after he's hung three ornaments right next to Dean's. Castiel frowns but complies, setting a grey one on the opposite side of the tree before looking to Sam for approval. Sam smiles, so he assumes this is the correct way to do it. "That'll let us decorate the entire tree. We don't have too many bulbs."
"This is decorating a Christmas tree, not rocket surgery," Dean snipes with an eye roll, though it seems more teasing than anything. "Don't make this some ritual, Sammy."
"So it is a ritual?" Castiel asks anxiously after a moment, looking down at the sphere in his hand and wondering if he's messing the ritual up; after all, he doesn't even know what the Winchesters' goal is or what the purpose of this ritual is…
"No, no ritual. Just for fun," Dean assures.
"Yes, of course." But...the Winchesters never do anything that doesn't somehow involve hunting…
This whole thing is incredibly confusing. Still, Castiel doesn't mention it again as he continues helping them decorate the tree, hoping the entire time that he isn't messing up the ritual-not-ritual.
As the three of them continue hanging up various ornaments, Sam asks, "So if you never met Jesus, does that mean you also never met the Virgin Mary?"
"Yes, that's right."
"So really, that whole story could be one big scam people thought up to try to preserve chastity or something," Dean puts in with that devilish smirk he always gets when he finds out about the Bible's inaccuracy.
"No, she was real," Castiel says, looking down at the ornament in his hand. "I've heard stories about her from the other angels. Gabriel supposedly attempted to seduce her when he was sent down to tell her she was pregnant with the Son of the Lord. He was reprimanded thoroughly for attempting carnal relations with someone who was supposed to be remembered as the Virgin, but Gabriel is very proud of himself for almost convincing her to 'go down' on him." He gives Sam and Dean an unsettled look and adds with a grimace, "He likes to talk about how she had a nice...shape."
Dean looks vaguely amused while Sam just gives him a sympathetic smile. This is when Castiel realizes they have run out of spheres, so he awaits further instruction, looking between the pair expectantly. While he was ordered to follow the Righteous Man's—Dean's—instructions, Dean has made it clear that he is also to listen to Sam and not to remind him of his prior addiction unless it's absolutely necessary. Castiel tries to treat them more or less equally, swiftly coming to help either of them whenever he can, but he fears it's obvious that he favors Dean. But he's known Dean for longer than Sam and has spent more time with them, not to mention the more profound bond they share, so he hopes Sam understands.
"Why don't we try to bribe Bobby with cookies?" Sam suggests when he apparently tires of Castiel looking between the two of them. "The stomach is the fastest way to a man's heart and everything."
"That's not true. Going through the sternum directly will reach the heart much more quickly than going through the stomach, though it does require a significant amount of force to break through the ribcage," Castiel interrupts with a frown after the two men turn around. Humans are...usually quite intelligent, and Sam is one of the most intelligent humans he knows (though Dean isn't as far behind as he probably thinks), so why would he say that…?
Dean looks over his shoulder, looking amused again, before turning back around as he laughs quietly to himself. "Just a saying, Cas."
Castiel follows them into the kitchen and watches as Sam begins searching the cabinets while Dean lingers at the table and finishes off his beer. Sam takes out various items; milk, sugar, flour, butter, vanilla extract, some sort of box with a curling bicep on the front, and a large bowl.
"Damn, we don't have any eggs," Sam mutters, freezing with the refrigerator door open as he peers into it with a frown.
"I can get some," the angel offers earnestly.
Sam startles slightly like he forgot Castiel was there and turns to him, finding him standing approximately a foot from him. "Uh, sure, Cas. That'd be great." The man reaches into his own wallet and sets $5 dollars into his hand. "Just pick up a dozen and bring me the change, okay?"
Castiel squints down the money, attempting to discern its purpose by turning it in his hand. "Am I to...offer the chickens compensation for their byproducts?"
Suddenly, Dean's laughing heartily from behind them, coming up to clap him on the shoulder like he's done something admirable. Sam himself seems to also be containing his laughter by biting his lip, which Castiel appreciates, though he'd prefer neither of them laughing at all, since he's quite positive it's at his expense…
"Just go to the store and buy a carton of eggs," Dean finally instructs. "Pick up a pack, make sure none are broken, then go to checkout and buy them. Then just come back here."
Castiel nods and accepts the assignment, flying away in an instant. He assumes Dean was referring to a convenience store beside a gas station, as he's observed the Winchesters frequently go shopping in, so he flies to one they had stopped at two weeks ago. He enters the building and looks around, searching for eggs.
He doesn't see any specifically, but notices the sign advertising eggs on the wall, so he goes there. He discovers long containers of some sort of substance that store eggs inside, possibly to protect them from being damaged. Dean had said to check that none are broken, so he looks at each one carefully. One is visibly cracked, but he assumes that's acceptable since it is inside the protective packaging. Earth has changed so much from when angels had last visited it…
Castiel approaches the counter and sets the carton of eggs down to hand the woman behind the counter his money, announcing as she types something into the register, "We are preparing cookies." If she recognizes him from thirteen days ago, she doesn't mention it.
"I don't care," she replies, taking his money before handing him more money of lower value back.
It's strange, but she had done the same to the Winchesters when they had bought beef jerky, so he accepts the money. He picks the eggs up and thanks her before flying away, only wondering after he hears her shriek if he should've gone outside before disappearing.
"I have retrieved eggs," Castiel announces the instant he lands back in the kitchen, but freezes when he sees Bobby has returned and is looking irritably between Sam and Dean. The man glances at him when he speaks.
"So you roped the angel into this, too?"
"Well…" Sam looks at him sheepishly, glancing down quickly at the eggs. "Thanks for the eggs, Cas."
"One of them is cracked, but none are broken," the angel tells Sam as he takes the carton from Castiel's hands, and then the remaining money. "Do we require anything else before we can make cookies?"
Bobby pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs as Dean says, handing the older man a beer, "C'mon, Bobby, don't be a Scrooge."
Dean looks at him, as if for confirmation, so he agrees (though he's not sure what he's agreeing to, he knows it'll make Dean smile), "Yes, don't be a...Scrooge."
Predictably, Dean does smile, coming over to stand next to him, which ends up isolating Bobby as all three of them are on the other side of the room. Bobby turns his wheelchair and looks at them for a long moment before glancing back down at the beer in his hand.
Finally, the man sighs and relents, grumbling, "Don't think I got any of you presents."
"'Course not, Bobby," Dean allows with a grin. "So, let's mix the rest of the ingredients."
Bobby rolls his eyes and wheels himself into the living room. Castiel stays in the corner of the room to watch the Winchesters, but realizes after the third time that Dean backed into him that he might be in the way and Sam and Dean are just too nice to tell him so, so he spares them the trouble by leaving and entering the living room.
He finds Bobby staring up at the tree with a soft, nostalgic look in his eyes. He's never really seen Bobby looking anything but irritable or otherwise upset, so the sight is surprising. Castiel goes to stand beside and slightly behind the wheelchair with his hands deep in the pockets of his trench coat, also taking in the tree. He wonders what Bobby is thinking about...
"Looks nice," the man awkwardly says after a moment, so Castiel looks over at him. "Homey."
"I'm sure Sam and Dean would appreciate your words," the angel allows, recognizing at that moment more than ever that he really doesn't know Bobby at all. They've only met a handful of times, after all, and have always had Sam and/or Dean as a...buffer.
"They said you never celebrated Christmas before."
"That's right. It's a human holiday," he confirms with a short nod.
"What do you think?" Bobby asks, body stiff for a reason entirely lost on Castiel.
"It's...enjoyable. I can see why people would celebrate it."
Castiel wants to talk about how he's never felt more alone than when he's standing in Bobby Singer's living room, gazing at the fruit of a human celebration he's never been able to partake in—never been allowed to partake, because angels aren't to freely interact with humans—as the two humans in his charge bustle around the kitchen to prepare more aspects of the holiday.
He wants to ask if the heavy feeling in the heart of his vessel, the vessel that should have a human soul dwelling within it alongside his grace but doesn't thanks to him, is supposed to come during times everyone around him is happy and expect him to be happy, too. He wants to ask if it will ever fade, or if he's going to experience it until he dies—again, likely permanently and likely soon.
But he doesn't. Instead, he just asks, tilting his head to observe the situation from a different angle, "Why are only some of the lights colored and the rest are monochromatic?"
Bobby frowns at him. "The hell are you talking about?"
Castiel tilts his head further and narrows his eyes, considering, remembering words spoken to him long ago, before simply saying, "Nevermind."
"What color do you think my shirt is?" Bobby asks, giving him a strange look.
Castiel thinks about not answering, but ultimately decides against it. Bobby has snapped at him many times before, yes, but he's still been kind to Castiel (in his own gruff way) and has seemed to endeavor to make the angel feel more like a human among the humans in his charge—more like a Winchester or even a Singer.
So he decides to humor the human's unusual question and answers, "Grey, with a red undershirt."
"Overshirt is blue," Bobby corrects, frowning deeply. "Can't you see colors?"
"Not...like a human can," he finally admits in a murmur. "I've been told colors were one of God's gifts to humans, along with free will and dreams. Angels don't have access to any of those."
"You already got one of 'em," Bobby points out. "What's two more?"
Castiel narrows his eyes. "I...don't think it works like that." Bobby meets his eyes, and Castiel finds himself wondering what color his eyes are, what color Sam's or Dean's are. "In any case, it doesn't really bother me. I hadn't even realized it until recently, actually."
"You're an awful liar," the man beside him cuts in.
"And the ring of foliage and pinecones outside just blew off your door due to a poorly hammered-in nail, but I wasn't going to mention that," he replies curtly, looking back at the tree. "...for no reason in particular," he begins quietly, "what colors are the lights?"
"Lots of greens and blues. Reds. Some yellow and pink in there."
"Hm…" Castiel's eyes trace all of the stringed lights as he wonders which ones were which. "What about the tree? It's green, right?"
"Yeah. Kind of an ugly green, too. Like the inside of a sewer," Bobby remarks, scowling at the tree like it personally offended him just by existing.
"I see…" Castiel didn't see, of course, but doesn't really want to talk about this anymore.
It makes him feel...strange, makes him realize how truly isolated he is. He has no home. His own siblings have cast him out for rebelling against their plan for the Apocalypse and attempting (but failing, always failing these days) to stop it. It's...lonely, he realizes. He's no longer welcome in Heaven, and has never even begun to fit in on earth… So where does he fit?
"What are you moping about?" Bobby then grumbles.
Castiel barely suppresses an eye roll. "I am not 'moping'. Merely...introspecting."
"Introspecting what?"
"My purpose, I suppose. I won't have much of one in the coming months as my powers fail more and more," he admits quietly. "I've already lost the ability to heal. Soon, I won't even be able to fly. What purpose will I serve then?"
Castiel frowns when that strange feeling that makes his vessel's heart feel unnaturally heavy and his eyes sting incessantly. He tries to ignore it by blinking, but they just sting worse, so he reaches a hand up to rub at his eye, but that doesn't help, either.
"You won't need one," Bobby eventually says. "You don't need to always be serving somethin' to exist."
Castiel meets his eyes for a second and murmurs miserably, "Angels do…"
"Says who?"
"I don't think you understand," Castiel says. "Angels were created to serve, to protect. We were not meant to make our own choices. We're a unit, not individuals."
"Yeah, yeah, I heard the company line," the man cuts in. "But you're different and you know it, so stop this self-pitying crap and enjoy the family you found instead of mourning the one you lost. There's no crying in my house, boy."
Castiel blinks at him before looking back to the floor and biting his lip. When he's finally able to compose himself, using Bobby's surprisingly meaningful words for comfort, he looks up again to meet Bobby's eyes.
"Thank you..." he murmurs eventually, unsure of quite what to say. He and Bobby hardly know each other, and the man had just been unexpectedly kind to him—something he's never really experienced before. He ducks his head again without fully meaning to. "I…"
A hand claps him vaguely on the, well, lower back, but only because Bobby can't properly reach his shoulder.
"Don't mention it. Ever." Castiel detects a warning somewhere in his words, but isn't sure how to react, especially since he's quite certain it's mostly for show. "Now c'mon. I smell cookies, and like hell am I gonna let those boys eat 'em all before they even ice 'em."
Inexplicably, Castiel discovers that the cookies have just come out of the oven when they enter the kitchen. He hadn't even smelled them with his enhanced angel senses, so it's a mystery to him how an aging human was able to know exactly when they were coming out. He supposes there's a reason the Bible advises people to listen to their elders, and even though Castiel is thousands of years older than Bobby, the man is...still like an authoritative figure to him, though that may be because Sam and Dean view him as such.
Bobby insists they apply 'icing' to the cookies before they eat half the tray. Sam tries to show Castiel how to apply the 'icing,' but Castiel finds himself banned from the icing bowl within minutes after crumbling a cookie into it to achieve a more even icing distribution. Either way, the angel is content to watch the two humans bustle around the bowl and inevitably apply icing to each others' hands and faces while Bobby yells at them from the corner for being so childish.
When they finally get around to eating the cookies, there seems to be more icing on the counter than the baked goods, but no one seems to notice. Dean insists that he tries a cookie and hand delivers one shaped like a tree to him. Castiel looks at it, perplexed, and wonders what color it is as he reluctantly bites off the top of the tree.
"How is it?" Dean asks, smiling.
"Tastes like…" Castiel's face scrunches up without him meaning to, gazing down at the cookie with what's unintentionally similar to a betrayed look on his face, " molecules."
Dean laughs and pats him on the shoulder lightly before walking past him to go into Bobby's living room. The man stares at the tree with a strangely shaped cookie in his hand before he suddenly lights up.
"Hey, Sam, where'd we put those special decorations again?"
"I think they're still in the trunk," Sam answers from where he's probably being forced to clean up the kitchen.
"What special decorations?" Bobby snaps dubiously, also from the kitchen, as Dean rushes from the house without closing the door, letting snow blow into the house and cover the floor of the doorway. "Doesn't even close the door. What were you boys, raised in a barn?" he grumbles to himself. "Gonna bring my heating bill up."
Dean comes back into the house moments later with a small wooden box. Castiel's curiosity gets the better of him and he follows Dean to where he stops right in front of the tree. Castiel leans in even closer as Dean opens the box and is surprised yet baffled to see four figurines inside, each wrapped in copious amounts of tissue paper.
"Well, Cas, what do you think?" Dean asks, pulling out one that looks like some of the more humanoid cookies they had just prepared. It's holding a strange striped cane. Further inspection allows Castiel to realize the word 'Dean' is written on the leg. "Pretty neat, huh?"
Dean hangs it on the tree near the top before pulling out another figurine. This one is a small deer with a tiny bowtie and a red nose, the word 'Sam' branding its side. This one goes far to the bottom left of the humanoid cookie 'Dean'. The next one is a round snowman with a hat and a scarf; 'Bobby' goes slightly higher than the other two, to the right of 'Sam'.
Then, Castiel is stunned to see the next one is a biblically inaccurate representation of an angel. Long light hair, white robes, two white wings...and just one word written on one of the wings: 'Cas'. It's...supposed to represent him...
"Sorry it's a chick," Dean says after Castiel has been staring silently at the figurine for several seconds. "Couldn't actually find any guy-angels that weren't supposed to be Gabriel, so we improvised."
"Angels don't have genders," Castiel replies on instinct before he frowns. "But...why?"
"Why what?" Sam, who had just entered the living room beside Bobby, asks.
"Why do I have one?"
"'Cause you're like family, dumbass," Dean answers simply, hanging the angel figurine slightly below and to the left of the 'Dean' one.
Castiel's brow furrows as he looks between the figurines. The Winchesters consider him...family? But why? Surely it's only because he's much more powerful than them, with the powers of Heaven that were once at his disposal, so he won't be considered family for much longer...right?
Or maybe they haven't realized what 'Falling' means. No, the extent of what he's told them is some of his powers like his healing ability are… Well, it's not something he can do anymore. They might have caught him eating or sleeping before, as well, but Castiel hopes they just thought that was because he wanted to try those things out, hopes they haven't realized how little time he has left before he Falls completely and his already weakened grace becomes entirely useless.
But...until then, Castiel is content to just remember what it's like to have a family, even if it's only for a few more months. So he doesn't comment on the statement, doesn't tell them how little time he has left with his 'angel mojo'. He just keeps quiet as the three humans, one by one, retire to bed.
Castiel won't admit to falling asleep, but he does end up falling asleep on Bobby Singer's strangely-scented sofa that he's heard Dean say smells like 'the inside of a grandma's purse'. He wakes up what should've been early enough that none of the humans in his charge were awake, but inexplicably are, as he opens his vessel's eyes and jerks awake to Dean's face inches from his, a wide grin on his face.
"Hey, Cas, catchin' a catnap?"
Castiel just blinks slowly at him and doesn't reply, feeling...sluggish. It's disconcerting and irritating, and such a feeling would leave him open to potential attack. Honestly, he doesn't know why some humans enjoy sleeping so much when it leaves them so vulnerable.
"Why are you awake?" Castiel ends up asking with a frown. He realizes there's a blanket draped over him that he certainly hadn't put on himself and takes a moment to wonder where it came from. "It's only five in the morning here."
"Honestly? Mostly jet lag," Dean answers, taking a step back to stare down at it. "The fact that it's Christmas doesn't hurt, either, though."
"...is that a reference to something?" Castiel asks after a long moment. Usually when Dean says something endlessly peculiar or nonsensical, it's often an obscure reference to some bizarre television program he'd happened upon at some point in time.
Dean just rolls his eyes and steps back to let Castiel stand up, which he reluctantly does. He does cast a forlorn look towards the couch once he's vertical again, though. Sam probably notices, given that he does seem amused when Castiel next catches his eye.
"Who's going first?" Dean asks when Bobby rolls into the room with a deep frown on his face (likely the result of being woken up so early). "I'm thinking seniors first."
Bobby rolls his eyes as Dean leans down to pull two small gifts out from under the tree, one in a gift bag and one in a small box. As Bobby begins going through the massive amounts of tissue paper shoved into the bag, Castiel frowns. Wouldn't...he be the oldest?
Castiel doesn't actually end up mentioning that as he watches Bobby pull out an expensive looking wine from the year 1950.
"Now you're just makin' me feel old," the man says with a deep frown. Dean just smirks, which seems to intensify when Bobby finishes opening his other gift.
"Coupons for pedicures," he tells them. "Bobby got one before and it changed his life. Now he goes every other w—"
"That's enough out of you two," Bobby snaps. "Got a couple of comedians in here."
All eyes turn expectantly towards Castiel, and it takes him a moment to realize why. "Should...I have gotten gifts, as well?" he asks with a frown.
"It's okay, Cas," Sam replies gently, but Castiel can still tell that he's disappointed all three humans.
That's why, after a few moments of thinking, he decides to give them some of his feathers. They had come out during his most recent molt, which was shortly after he'd come to earth after rescuing Dean from Hell. He'd been meaning to burn them, and hasn't gotten around to it yet.
(Well, really, he can burn them in two seconds with barely any thought. No, he was really just considering keeping what might be some of his last feathers ever, now that he's Falling…but Bobby and the Winchesters don't need to know any of that.)
"Would these suffice?" he asks, handing one of the dark feathers to each of them. "They can be used for many spells, or can be used to personally ward individuals against demons, as the demons will be able to tell that a human is under the protection of an angel and would hesitate before attacking."
"Wow. Awesome," Dean expresses, giving him a brief smile.
"Are you sure, Cas? I mean, we invited you, so you don't really have to get us anything," Sam tells him through his awe stemming from seeing and holding an actual angel's feather, but Castiel just shakes his head.
"They are gifts," he says.
"Would've preferred working legs, but this is nice, too," Castiel hears Bobby huff to himself as he tries to hide a smile.
"They're beautiful," Sam remarks.
"All right, that's enough with the chick-flick moment," Dean cuts in, though he carefully pockets the feather with the utmost care. "I wanna open mine next."
Dean ends up getting premium motor oil from Bobby (for 'Baby') and two pounds worth the peanut butter fudge from Sam. This is apparently an inside joke, since Sam and Dean share silent knowing looks afterwards.
Sam goes next. He gets a strangely-wrapped portable smoothie maker for long, smoothie-less trips in the car. Sam smiles appreciatively, but it does fade when he opens his next gift, in which case he exchanges the look to glare at Dean.
"Really, Dean? Socks?"
"Hey, you're always bitching about how wet your socks are getting these days," Dean says defensively yet teasingly. Sam gives him what Castiel has heard Dean refer to as a 'bitchface,' but Dean doesn't seem to notice it as he turns to Castiel and all but shoves two wrapped boxes into his hands. "All right, Cas, you're up."
"You...did not have to get me anything," he tells them quietly, surprised they'd even bothered.
"Well, that's good, 'cause I didn't know you were comin'," Bobby says gruffly.
"Open them," Dean encourages anyway. The smaller gift reveals a dark blue tie with little light blue fish on it that Dean helps him put on immediately in place of his 'boring tax accountant' tie. It makes Castiel feel...like an individual. He chose to wear the tie, no one else. The second is a journal with a pencil attached to the cover with a ribbon. "Really, Sam? You got him a diary?"
"What's wrong with that?" Castiel asks. "It seems to be of fairly decent quality, and the attached pencil means I will not have to worry about losing it."
Dean looks like he's about to say something, but doesn't when Sam shoots him a look. Instead, Sam just smiles and says, "Glad you like it, Cas."
It turns out Christmas day traditions involve watching unusual movies of varying quality from decades ago and eating more cookies. Castiel isn't particularly fond of either tradition, but does enjoy Sam, Dean, and Bobby's company, anyway. At least, until Sam discovers a case in nearby Michigan involving whatever a wraith is. Surprisingly, they invite Castiel to come with them, despite the fact that he doesn't even know what a wraith is and the matter of his failing grace making it more and more difficult to tell what is and isn't human.
In the end, Sam and Dean don't really seem to care how much 'angel mojo' he has or how little experience he has on things. This is surprising, since this would be entirely unheard of in Heaven; an angel's worth is determined almost solely by their fighting and flying abilities, along with certain desirable aspects of their personality like their determination or willpower. An angel without its grace is hardly worth more than a human, and one as rebellious as Castiel wouldn't be worth more than a hamster in Heaven. But that's not the case with Sam and Dean and even Bobby. With them, he doesn't have to be an emotionless warrior or a soldier that wordlessly carries out orders or even an angel.
With Sam and Dean and Bobby, him just being Castiel, complete with new fish-tie and journal-turned-visually-appealing-animal-sketchbook, is apparently...more than enough, though Castiel can't really fathom why they would think this. So, if Castiel had to guess, he's finally learned just what the Winchesters and Bobby mean when they say family doesn't end in blood. Castiel certainly isn't blood-related to any of them, but they invite him into their home or motel rooms or cars whenever he asks, with or without his grace, and as Castiel's grace fades more and more, they seem to get kinder, if possible, instead of flatout turning him away.
Because he's an honorary member of their families. He's not sure how he's achieved such a status, but it truly is an honor, seeing how highly they value family, especially. So while Castiel may have lost his grace alongside his standing with his 'official' family through his rebellion...he ended up gaining a new family that accepts him for who he is, even without his 'mojo'. He may have lost the vastness of Heaven and all the personal Heavens inside, but he's ended up gaining one for his own—a home.