Author's Note: I want to thank you guys for all your kind words! Your comments always encourage me to keep writing and write better chapters! Thanks so much!

Today's prompt comes from Zana Zira who requested, "Only Sam would find a way to almost choke to death on a Christmas cookie." I would prefer it be set in Seasons 8-11, in the bunker, and if Cas could be worked in there somehow it would be great, but all I really need is that prompt right there and Dean helping Sam out of the situation." You got it! Let's set this in season 9, post "Road Trip" so spoilers for season 9. I hope you enjoy!

"Rocking around the Christmas Tree

Let the Christmas Spirit Ring

Later we'll have some pumpkin pie

and we'll do some caroling."

—Brenda Lee, "Rocking Around the Christmas Tree"

Only Sam would find a way to almost choke to death on a Christmas cookie.

But wait, Castiel is getting ahead of himself.

It's close to Christmas—a time for joy and rebirth—yet the angel can't help but find the atmosphere in the bunker to be less than jolly. For one thing, Dean is gone, taken off for parts unknown after saving his little brother once more, leaving Castiel to not only heal Sam physically, but also fix his broken psyche.

And for another thing, Kevin is dead.

The teenage prophet was an unfortunate casualty of a war he had never wanted to be apart of in the first place. How cruel the universe could be, the angel thinks, to force a teenager to play such a huge role and for what? Just for him to die horribly, painfully? What purpose did that serve in the grand scheme of things? How could he justify Kevin's death?

He can't of course and it breaks the angel's heart.

Yet, Kevin's presence is still acutely felt. His bedroom is just as the teenager left it, books and papers strewn over his desk, messy sheets and rumpled clothes and a variety of post-it notes from both Sam and Dean, reminding the teen about eating and taking breaks. There is a pen left next to a journal, as if the boy had intended to return to it as soon as he could.

But Kevin would not return.

Kevin is dead.

Grief is an odd human emotion, but one that he knows much too well. The longing for the presence of someone long gone, the split-second of relief when you first wake turning to dread as the memories assault you anew—yes, being around the Winchesters, he's had his fair share of encounters with grief.

In Heaven, there was no such concept of grief. An angel perishing was a cause for celebration, for they had achieved their well-deserved reward in eternity. Perhaps, he'd been naïve to believe that. In Heaven though, you didn't really make attachments to others like you did on Earth. Losing a comrade was nothing serious.

"Cas?" Sam's voice is hoarse, strained and the angel chides himself, quickly shutting Kevin's door behind him.

It is Sam who needs attention now. After all, the youngest Winchester is experiencing the debilitating symptoms of a forced exorcism. Not only that, but Kevin's death and Dean's betrayal has to be weighing on his mind.

"I am here."

He finds Sam slumped over on the dining room table, his head resting against the dark, glossy wooden surface. His cheeks are flushed—his body is still so weak, still broken from the Trials—and immediately, Castiel kneels next to him, placing two fingers against his friend's forehead.

"Cas, I . . ." Sam's voice trails off, but the angel can follow his gaze, can see how he's looking upstairs at the now shut door to Kevin's room. A mix of hurt and guilt clouds Sam's gaze and he bites his lower lip somewhat nervously. "Kevin—"

"You need your rest." Castiel remarks softly, willing his grace to mend Sam's broken body.

"But . . ." Sam's slurring his words now, exhaustion catching up to him.

"Rest, Sam." The angel commands, though not unkindly and immediately, Sam's eyes flutter shut.

And just like that, the youngest Winchester is asleep.

"Sam," He whispers, "I am sorry that I could not help you earlier."

During the Trials, he'd been useless to Sam, unable to help heal him. In fact, if Dean had listened to him, Sam would be dead right now, a casualty of Castiel's certainty that Naomi had been the traitorous angel, not Metatron.

How far they had all come since then.

So, for now, all Castiel can is watch over his injured friend and hope that some good could come out of this terribly messed up situation.

How they ended up making Christmas cookies is a bit of mystery though.

After three failed attempts to get ahold of Dean—you can't avoid your brother forever, Dean, just come back, Sam needs you—the angel had turned to the television as a way of controlling his emotions. He couldn't allow Sam to exert himself by worrying over the angel's emotional state.

And that was how he ended up watching the cheesy goodness that is Hallmark's Countdown to Christmas.

Did the movies seem wildly implausible? Yes, but they were filled with such joy and hope that Castiel couldn't help but be drawn into them.

Hence the idea to make cookies.

"You want to make Christmas cookies?" Sam inquires, brow furrowed.

"Indeed," Castiel chirps happily. "I believe it is the time of year for such a feat."

"Yeah, I guess," Sam shrugs, chuckling softly. "Let me just see what we have."

The youngest Winchester marches into the kitchen, surveying the fridge as well as the cabinets. Slowly, he begins to pull out ingredients. First butter, then sugar, then flour, then eggs and so on and so forth.

"Sugar cookies okay?" Sam asks and Castiel nods his head enthusiastically, causing Sam to laugh boisterously. "You're so weird." He means it with affection though, causing a grin to break out on the angel's lips.

An hour later, they have two-dozen Christmas tree shaped sugar cookies.

"Here." Sam hands him a warm cookie. "They're always better when they're right from the oven."

Castiel may not be able to really use the food he consumes for energy, but ever since he was human, he does now appreciate food. The sugar cookie, for example, is warm and sweet, though not overly so.

"It's perfect." He comments as Sam takes a bite of his own.

Which led Castiel to this—watching Sam begin to choke on the cookie. Humans are, after all, so easily broken, so insanely fragile and their bodies could betray them at any moment.

Sam's skin is starting to turn blue when Castiel finally processes enough to spring into action only for—

"Easy, Sammy!"

Dean is there, his two fists encircling Sam's waist and then pushing into his little brother's skin until the bit of cookie comes dislodged and Sam is breathing again, coughing, but alive.

"I've got you." Dean assures his brother and Sam nods.

Castiel is just relieved.

"You came back." Sam murmurs and Dean beams.

"It's almost Christmas, Sammy. You think I'd leave you all alone on Christmas?"

Sam coughs a bit more and Dean begins to rub circles on his brother's back, trying to ease his discomfort.

"It's okay," Dean whispers, "Just breathe, Sammy."

Deciding he's no longer needed, the angel quietly walks away, giving the two brothers time to reconnect.

"Cas?"

"Dean."

The eldest Winchester has his duffel once more in his hand and guilt written all over his face.

Castiel grimaces as the pieces come together, "You are leaving again."

"Yeah."

It's 11pm on Christmas and Sam has long since been asleep. His condition has improved, partly due to Castiel's grace, but mostly due to the presence of his brother by his side.

"You should stay—" Castiel begins to protest, but Dean holds up his hand for silence.

"What happened to Kevin, what almost happened to Sam," He starts softly, "It's on me. I can't . . ."

Be here, Castiel completes, seeing firsthand the consequences of his choices.

With a pained smile, Dean adds, "Take care of Sam."

And then Dean Winchester is gone.

Author's Note: Wow, this one took on a life of it's own. A bit more bittersweet than I intended too. Well, I hope you guys enjoyed it. Please review if you have a moment! If not, see you tomorrow. Thanks!