#dirtymish

The lights around the bars on his hospice bed are the last thing Cas sees. The soft tune of jingle bells floating in and out of his ears is the last thing that Cas hears. The soft flannel of the Nativity bed sheets underneath his fingers is the last thing he feels. Everything’s dimming. Everything’s fading. And Castiel is okay with that. He’s okay… with...

Suddenly white light blinds his vision and no matter how hard he tries to close his eyes, to bring up his arm, to block out the dimming, it doesn’t fade. It goes on for what seems like eternity before it’s cut as abruptly as it began.

“Hello, Castiel.” a voice says at his bedside. Castiel doesn’t need to know who it is, he’s heard that voice too many times since his diagnosis, but he turns his face anyway.

Death sits to the left of Castiel’s hospital bedside, slipping nonchalantly on what appears to be a blue icee.

Castiel squints. “I thought.. I…”

“Mm, yes,” Death hums, “It is technically your time, Castiel, you’re right.”

“Then.. why?”

Putting down the icee on the bedside table, Death folds his bony fingers over the handle of his cane. “Let’s just say, I’ve… taken an interest.”

“In me?” Castiel asks skeptically. After years of visits, certainly Death would have told him about anything untoward that would be expected of him when he died.

“Yes, Castiel.” Dean affirms. “You see, there’s something that you can do for me. If you want.” Death’s grim eyes meet Castiel’s.

“What is it?”

“There’s a man,” Death begins, removing himself from the chair and standing over Castiel. “His name is Dean Winchester.”

Who? “I don’t know who that is.”

Death shakes his head. “No, no, you wouldn’t.” “Then what does he have to do with me?”

“Oh, everything, Castiel,” Death scorns, “If you’ll take my offer.”

Death just shrugs his thin shoulders. “You see, you will go to heaven and live life in your predetermined paradise, just like everyone else.” Then after a beat, “But I have a sneaking suspicion that an ex marine wouldn’t take too kindly to the simple answer.”

That makes Castiel grit his teeth, because of course Death’s right. Castiel doesn’t want to go to heaven. Fuck, after what he’s been through and what he’s done he was almost certain that he was going to hell.

“What do you need me to do?” Castiel challenges, earning him a smug smirk from the entity towering above him.

“Dean Winchester has forgotten what it means to have the Christmas spirit.” A polite smile of gangly teeth. “Remind him of what that is before Christmas morning and you will become a Christmas Angel.”

“And if I don’t?”

“You’ll live the simple life. Boring old paradise.” Death folds his lips into a thin line. “Yes or no, Castiel?”

There is no contest.

“Yes.”

~

The house is a lot homeier than Castiel had expected. The windows are decorated with Christmas stickers, the lights from the christmas tree illuminate those windows, and despite the snow on the ground and the bitter wind, Castiel can feel the warmth coming from the house by just looking at it. It’s funny really. For a man who has such a reputation of disliking Christmas, he seems to have performed well for the spirit of it.

How ironic, Castiel thinks. The halo pendant on the necklace Death gave him presses into his palm as he squeezes it in a fist. It’s a reminder of what he’s here to do. This man needs his help, Death didn’t specify other than that Dean Winchester needs to be reminded of what the meaning of Christmas is by the twenty-fifth. That’s all he has to go on, but goddamn it, it’s enough. It’s orders. Castiel can deal with orders.

Taking a deep breath, Castiel raises his fist to knock on the door. He lightly raps his knuckles against it a few times and waits. It’s not long before he hears shuffling coming towards the door, and Castiel bites the inside of his cheek.

“Sammy, I told you I-” A voice says, presumably Dean Winchester, as the door swings open.

Castiel’s breath hitches.

This is bad. Death didn’t explain that Dean is attractive. Castiel has had attraction to men before, but never like this. Never this visceral at first sight. Shit.

The man before him cuts off his sentence before frowning. “Who are you?” To civilian eyes, the movements of Dean’s shoulders and posture tightening would have been missed, but Castiel’s trained eyes notice a soldier when the see one.

Castiel offers a kind smile. “Hello, I’m Castiel. I just moved up the street.” Lie. “I’m making an effort to meet my neighbors to get into the Christmas spirit.”

“Huh.” Dean shrugs. “Sorry, pal, doubt you’ll find any bible babies ‘round here.”

Castiel cocks his head to the side. “Sorry?”

Dean purses his lips. “Just warning you. Not a lot of folks around here appreciate being preached at, okay?” And then he shuts the door in Castiel’s face.

Well.

At least there’s a starting point.

~

After a week of observing Dean Winchester through the lens of the omniscient view of angels, Castiel learns quite a lot about him. He learns that Dean works at a nine-to-five job as a business man. He learns that his parents died when he was young and he was raised by a man named Bobby. He learns that Dean has a younger brother, Sam, whom he would lay his life down for.

The most interesting thing about him to Castiel, though, is the fact that Dean has no made an effort to see them during this holiday season. Before Castiel died, all he wanted to do was be around his family, especially during this time of the year. There was no where else he’d rather be than his sister Anna’s annual potluck surrounded by friends and family. So, why is Dean making an effort not to contact his when it is so evident that he has strong connections with them?

It’s all been getting a little concerning for Castiel and now that he’s ready to try to see Dean again, he ropes the talisman over his head. As the halo rests against his body, he feels himself begin to tether to the earth again. Castiel checks his mental calendar. It’s the 17th. He has eight days. He can do this.

Step by step, he marches his way up to the doorstep of Dean Winchester’s home once more. He knocks just the same as he did before and waits.

This time, he’s surprised to see that it is no Dean who answers the door. Instead it’s a much taller man, with shaggy brown hair. The shape and slope of his face are similar to Dean’s so Castiel reasons this must be Sam.

Sam greets him much more warmly than Dean did. “Hey, can I help you?”

Castiel returns the grin. “Is Dean around by any chance? I have something for him.” He pats his coat pocket for emphasis.  

“Oh yeah,” Sam laughs, “He’s just getting a shower. Do you want wait for him inside?” Sam opens the door as an invitation and Castiel gladly accepts, stepping into Dean Winchester’s home for the first time.

Being inside confirms the feeling of what Castiel had noticed the first time. Everything about the house is in impeccable Christmas celebration, but there is something missing. There is no heart in the decorations. It feels fake and plastic, looking at it this close. Something is definitely amiss, and Castiel is going to make sure to find out what.

“So have you lived in the neighborhood long…?” He hears Sam say from behind him.

“Castiel.” He answers, examining the decorations adorning the Christmas tree.

“Castiel, right, so? Have you?”

Castiel shakes his head. “I only moved here last week.”

Sam’s eyebrows shoot up. “Huh. So what brings you here?”

A smile plays on Castiel’s lips. “I thought Dean could use some Christmas cheer.”

That causes Sam to bark out a laugh. “Good luck, with that, Castiel.”

Castiel feigns a frown. “Why would you say that?”

“Trust me.” is all Sam says before making his way over to the kitchen and grabbing what appears to be a beer from the refrigerator.

Before Castiel can say anything else, Dean is sauntering into the room. Castiel can’t help but notice that how the ragged jean’s he’s wearing hug his thighs, or how his legs bow out. He swallows back his thoughts and meets Dean’s accusing eyes.

“What are you doing here?” Dean all but growls. “I thought I told you nobody wants any bible preachers here?”

“Dude,” Sam scolds, his brows pinching, “He’s here to give you a present. Take a chill pill once in awhile.”

Dean sighs, defeated, before meandering over to his couch where he promptly drops himself. “Yeah, okay, fine. Whatever. What’s going on?”

Rolling his eyes, Castiel hands over a wrapped gift. It’s small, but it hold value over almost anything in the entirety of creation, according to Death.

Opening it, Dean looks puzzled when he sees what it is. The amulet looks like a small human head with ram horns. It appears small, but even Dean seems to feel its momentous power, as his eyes widen and his mouth drops open. Then, suddenly his eyes grow cold and angry.

“Where did you get this?” He almost yells, standing abruptly up from his seat. His accusatory gaze bores into Castiel like a drill set on fire.

“What do you mean?” Castiel counters back innocently. “I got it at a pawn shop!”

Dean’s shoulders are shuddering and if this were a cartoon, Castiel is sure there would be smoke coming out of Dean’s ears.

“Dean, relax,” Sam clamps a hand around Dean’s bicep. “I’m sure they made more of them. Cas probably just found another copy.”

“No! Bobby said this was unique! Rare!” Dean bellows. “There is no way that he could have gotten this without going through Dad’s shit.”

Castiel blanks. He didn’t know any of this. All he was told was that the amulet was the strongest tool used to find God in the universe. Death had given it to him, and Castiel assumed that he’d always had it. Kind of like his white ring, or the halo pendant. Castiel never guessed that the Winchesters had it first.

Without thinking, Castiel rips off the pendant from his neck. He barely catches the look of shock that comes over the brother’s faces at his sudden dissolvement, before he feels the lull of the pull up to heaven’s clouds.

~

Over several nights, Castiel sours the Winchester’s history in search of any information that may be of import to understand Dean Winchester’s hesitancy towards the Christmas holiday. As he searches through years and years of Dean Winchester’s life, he falls a little bit more in love. It feels as if Dean is telling him the story of his life as he learns how Dean practically raised Sam from a young age, practically from infancy. He learns that Dean has never had anyone stay by his side romantically for more than a year, the longest being Lisa Braeden, which ended in heartbreak. He longs to comfort Dean as he goes through the memories of Dean’s losses but remains impressed at Dean’s strength and resilience, especially after losing half of his men in an ambush during his final tour in Afghanistan.

It’s not until Castiel comes across the date that fits everything together.

On December 23rd, 1982 Dean’s home caught fire, where his mother died and his father never recovered. Dean never really felt Christmas after that.

“Oh Dean…” Castiel’s soul weeps for him. And it’s on December 23rd that he makes his next appearance. If Dean Winchester has lost faith in the purpose of Christmas because of this event, then there is only one thing that Castiel can do for him.

Castiel knows what it is like to lose ones close to your heart. If Castiel hadn’t led his men across that field, then perhaps his friends would still be alive, perhaps he would still be alive. After weeks in hospice, Castiel learned that the best way to heal from a traumatic event was to talk it out. From how Dean Winchester was raised, he surmises that Dean Winchester never had the chance to talk about the accident that killed his mother.

He settles the halo pendant over his neck again and lets himself be pulled back down to the corporeal earth. He stretches his limbs and shakes himself before turning to look at Dean Winchester’s home again. If Castiel hadn’t believed it was fake cheer before, the feeling of dread that seems from the house would have alerted him immediately. There is something off about the way the smoke rises from the chimney and the tune of We Wish You A Merry Christmas drifts along through the wind.

Mustering up his will, Castiel trudges over to Dean Winchester’s door for the third time. He knocks.

The Dean that opens up the door is a Dean that Castiel should have expected. He is clearly intoxicated, with a bottle of beer in his hand and a staggered walk.

Castiel meets his shifting gaze steadily.

“Whatta you want?” Dean slurs angrily, clearly no drunk enough to forget Castiel.

Castiel clears his throat. “I think I can help you.”

“Fuck off, Bible Guy,” Dean spits, trying to shut the door. No, Castiel thinks as he wedges his foot between the door and the threshold.

“I’m here to help, Dean.” he tries to reassure Dean, but all he’s met with is the same contempt and anger as his previous visits.

All he gets is  an angry shake of Dean’s head. “You're just gonna tell me that it  all get better! Well guess what buddy, nothing gets better!” And he takes a swig of his beer. Oh, Dean… Castiel presumes that this is a particularly difficult moment to be stepping in, but he’s come this far and he’s no going to leave until his mission is complete. Tonight he is going to make Dean happy about Christmas again. He surmises that there can only be one way to do that: tell the truth.

“What will get better, Dean?” Asking this man these questions in this state is just going to make him angrier, but as they say it has to get worse before it gets better.

“Nothing!” Dean curses. “Nothing gets better!”

Castiel frowns in pity. “Is this about your mother?”

Dean narrows his eyes. “How the fuck do you know about her?”

Carefully taking out the halo pendant, Castiel lets Dean see it. “I’m a guardian angel. I’m here to help.”

Dean’s eyes widen a smidge before they grow cold again. “Fuck you.” He turns away from Castiel and stalks down the hallway. “I’m not drunk enough for this shit!” Before Dean can get too far down the hallway, Castiel runs after him and grabs his forearm. Dean tries to yank it away. “Get off of me!”

Castiel maintains his grip. “I’m not lying, Dean. You know I’m no.” They both know that Dean saw him take off the pendant and disappear right before Dean’s eyes the last time he was here. By the way that Dean looks at him, Castiel is certain Dean remembers. There is no other explanation.

“Do you want me to show you again?” He asks calmly. He’s just met with a heavy stare filled with discontent and hostility. He sighs. Taking the pendant in his hand again, he gently tugs until he feels the clasp release and the necklace fall off. The expression of complete and utter astonishment crosses Dean’s face. And Before Castiel is drawn back into the sky, he quickly reattaches the necklace.

“See?” He holds out his arms to steady the man in front of him. Dean’s mouth has dropped open and his eyes are wide. “Do you need to sit down?” No giving, him a chance to answer, Castiel guides his charge over to where the couch is. He grabs Dean’s shoulders and slowly sits him down before taking a seat next to him.

For god knows how long, all Castiel does is steady himself for what Dean is about to say or do. He waits patiently as Dean’s green eyes absorb what happened before them. He counts the freckles that dust over Dean’s cheek bones and he’s almost done counting them when Dean says, “Holy shit…”

Castiel can only nod in agreement.

Dean turns his head slowly to meet Castiel’s gaze and for the first time this evening, he appears to be sobering. Dean huffs, eyes still wide as saucers. “So you’re a…” Dean’s throat clicks.

“An angel, yes…” Castiel nods.

Dean’s eyes scan Castiel from top to bottom as if he doesn’t believe that Castiel is even real. This is proven when Dean delicately reaches up and drags his fingers across Castiel’s jaw line as if Castiel is going to disappear right before his eyes again. His touch is gentle, a caress. Soon his other hand reaches up as well and does the same thing on the other side of Castiel’s face, his eyes filling with wonder as he registers the brevity this all. His fingers trace the contours of Castiel’s face, memorizing, and when those brilliant green eyes meet his, this time full cognitive and understanding, Castiel’s breath catches in his throat.

He doesn’t know how long they stay like that, Dean’s hands cupping his face and their eyes boring into one another. All Castiel is aware of is their lack of personal space and the thought that this is beyond what he is supposed to be doing in this moment. He’s supposed to be convincing Dean of the meaning of Christmas again, no trying his damndest to drop his gaze down to Dean’s lips and kiss him. He’s dead. Dean’s alive. He needs to focus.

“Angel…” Dean whispers, one hand drops to Castiel’s halo pendant. Castiel barely catches Dean’s eyes drop to his lips. But then Dean’s focus turns to the simple halo and the spell is broken. Castiel can breath again.

He swallows and watches Dean turn the small, thin ring over in his palm. “It is a talisman.”

Dean looks up. “A what now?”

“It tethers me to the earth, makes me able to be touched.” Castiel explains, a soft smile spreading over his face. A blush darkens Dean’s cheeks for a reason beyond Castiel and he ducks his head.

“Why’re you here?” Dean questions softly.

A heavy sigh flows out of Castiel’s lungs. “I’m here to help you.”

“Help me what?”

Castiel takes Dean’s chin in one palm and raises his face again. “Enjoy Christmas again.”

A frown pulls down on Dean’s mouth again and he pulls away from Castiel, leaning back into the couch. “How can you do that?” Castiel shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

Dean laughs.

“But I know that I will.” When Castiel served, there was no mission that he did not complete. This will be no different, no matter how stubborn Dean Winchester may be.

Dean takes another swing of his beer before placing it on the coffee table in front of the couch. Folding his arms across his chest, Dean levels with him again. “How do you know that?”

Castiel rises to his challenge. “I’ve never not completed a mission.”

Another harsh laugh. “So I’m a mission now?”

“If you want to see it that way,” Castiel reasons, “But do no misunderstand, I’m doing this for you, Dean. I’m trying to help you.”

“And why would an angel want to help me?”

Castiel frowns and presses forward, arms bent at his knees as he looks closer at Dean Winchester. His face is lined with stress, but around his eyes pigeon toe laugh-lines are starting to form. His cheeks are full and Castiel knows that there has been many happy moments in Dean Winchester’s life. It is only around this time that he needs help remembering how important he is.

“Because you deserve help, Dean.” Castiel measures his gaze with Dean’s, ready to argue against Dean’s worth, but the fight from Dean never comes. Dean just sighs and rests his head against the back of the couch, exposing the line of his throat. Castiel tries not to focus on the submissive gesture but he can’t help but imagining that neck under his mouth, caused by Dean Winchester rolling underneath him.

His mouth goes dry at the fantasy, but he forces himself to remain focused on the present, reminding himself that he is going to be leaving in two days. There is no time to lose.

“It was my fault…” Dean chokes out, still staring at the ceiling.

Castiel inches closer to him, folding his elbow over the edge of the couch and resting his head in his palm next to Dean, their bodies parallel to each other.

“What was?” Castiel whispers, encouraging Dean to continue. “The fire…” Dean clicks. “The one that… uh… killed my mom…”

“How was that your fault?” Castiel furrows his brow and drops a soothing hand to the crown of Dean’s forehead, starting to softly card his fingers through Dean’s short hair. He feels Dean lean into the touch.

Dean clenches his eyes shut. “I had forgotten to unplug the christmas tree.” A tremor seems to shake him and his lips begin to quiver. “She told me to unplug it and I didn’t. I liked the lights.” He sucks in a broken breath. Castiel coos and draws Dean into his arms, letting Dean’s head fall into the crook of his neck. “I went to bed and the next thing I know there’s a fire. Smoke everywhere. My dad is carrying me out of my room with my brother in his arms.” He shudders again. “When the fire trucks came, I still hadn’t seen my mom. I just thought that she was talking to the firefighters.” It doesn’t occur to Castiel that Dean is crying until this moment. He squeezes him and starts carding through his hair again. “It wasn’t until we were on our way to Bobby’s without her that I understood.” Another tremor. “I killed my mom, Cas.”

Castiel shakes his head violently and clutches Dean to him. “No, no, no. You did not. You were a child, Dean.” He pulls away from him and clasps Dean’s face between his palms. “Look at me, Dean.” Dean takes in a shaking breath before opening his eyes to return Castiel’s stare. “Repeat this after me: I was a child.”

Dean gulps. “I… was a child.”

“I did nothing wrong.”

Tears slip down Dean’s cheeks. “I did nothing wrong.”

Castiel presses close so their noses brush. “I am loved.”

“I am loved.” Dean’s breath dances over Castiel’s cheeks.

“I have a family.” Castiel enforces.

“I have a family.” The confidence in Dean’s voice grows.

Fingers wrap around the bolt of Dean jaw. “That’s what Christmas is all about.”

Dean catches his breath and the tears are no longer flowing. “That’s… what… Christmas is all… about.”

Castiel doesn’t realize his eyes have closed until he pries them open. Green fills his vision as Dean stares back with an intensity Castiel could feel rolling off of him. Both of their chests are puffing, their bodies pressed tightly together. Tingles start shooting up Castiel’s spine as he realizes just how little room they have between them, how close Dean’s mouth is to his own.

Dean must be thinking the same thing because his gaze dips down to Castiel’s mouth for the second time that night. Alarms ring in Castiel’s brain about how this isn’t a good idea, that getting attached to Dean will only end in heartbreak for the both of them, but when Dean reaches behind Castiel’s neck and starts leaning in, the alarms fizzle out into nothing.

The first press of Dean’s lips to his makes him dizzy. It’s been so long since he’s been kissed and even longer since he’s been in love. He knows that is stupid to say, but as he returns the kiss with enthusiasm, Dean opening up underneath him, Castiel knows it’s love. There is no other way to explain ho his chest burns as he parts Dean’s lips with his tongue. There is no other way to explain the weight on his heart as he slips into Dean’s mouth. He’s been attracted before, but there is no other explanation for the intensity in which he feels his body fitting with Dean’s like a missing puzzle piece.

When he slots a thigh between Dean’s and starts to slowly rock them together, Castiel knows that he has never felt pleasure this intense before. After spending so much time getting to understand Dean Winchester through his memories and through his conversation tonight, Castiel knows that he’s in love. Who’s to say how soon is too soon to say you’re in love. After all, it is common knowledge that he always has a little too much heart.

The feel of Dean erection pressing against his thigh causes him to gasp against Dean’s mouth. He gently slides his hips down again and feels Dean groan against his mouth the same time lighting shoots up Castiel’s spine. They start to gently rut together, no even bothering to take their clothes off. At this point in time, Castiel can’t find it within himself to give two shits about his clothes.

They continue like this for a while. Pleasure shoots up and down Castiel as his thrusts become less soft, and soon enough he and Dean are meeting each other thrust for hard thrust, panting against each other’s mouths. It’s Dean who comes first, his mouth parted in a gasp. The feeling of the pulse of his dick as he comes is enough for Castiel to reach his own climax, his cock shooting out as he comes hard against Dean’s thigh.

Careful no to collapse on top of Dean, Castiel sags down with as much restraint as he can, resting his forehead on the side of Dean’s neck. He breathes in his smoky scent and knows that he is truly fucked.

There is no possible scenario that ends with them both being happy. The acknowledgement of the fact that he is dead sends Castiel’s blood running cold. It doesn’t matter if he loves Dean. He’s dead. Now that Dean Winchester has been reminded of what Christmas means, he just has to believe it. After that, Castiel’s work will be done and he will have to leave. He’ll never see Dean again.

Clearing his face of his inner turmoil, Castiel pushes himself off of Dean, only grimacing slightly at the feeling of cooling come running against his thigh.

Sitting up and avoiding Dean’s eyes, Castiel says plainly, “You should call, Sam.”

He hears Dean shuffle. “Sam? What for?”

“I think it would be best if you spent tomorrow together.” Castiel turns to Dean and smiles ruefully, attempting to reign in the sudden onslaught of sadness in his veins. “Christmas is about family, so please, enjoy your Christmas with your brother. You deserve it.”

Dean’s blissed features start to sober. Castiel can tell that Dean’s noticed the change in mood, but he doesn’t comment on it. “Yeah, yeah, okay. I’ll call him.” Dean smiles and Castiel decides it’s time to take his leave. He’ll watch over the next night to make sure his message rings true.

As Castiel lifts his hands to the pendant with the intention of pulling it off, Dean’s hands come over his. “Whoa whoa, hey, man!” Dean says, his eyebrows pinching together. “Where are you goin’?”

Castiel wants to cry. “My mission is done, Dean.” Its simple, but it breaks his heart to say.

Dean’s lips press into a hard line and he casts his gaze down. “Right…”

Castiel feels his own lips quiver. “I’m sorry, Dean.” He voice cracks.

“Me, too, Cas.” Dean’s throat works and Castiel can’t deny himself one last kiss. He cups Dean’s face and presses their lips, the salt of his tears mingling with their mouths.

“Thank you.” He whispers one last time before he plucks the pendant off of his neck.

There’s just enough time to watch Dean raise his hands to his lips after opening his eyes to find Castiel gone. A heartbroken frown breaks over his face and Castiel hurts as he is tugged back up to his spot in heaven.

~

Sam Winchester makes it to Dean’s place at around seven the following evening. Castiel watches as he and Dean orient themselves around each other for probably the first time during this specific holiday season. At first, it seems awkward and Castiel laughs at Dean’s fumbling but soon the brothers set a good pace for themselves and settle in for Christmas Eve.

Soon, their surrogate father Bobby arrives too, with his wife, their daughter, and their daughter’s girlfriend Charlie. Sam had invited them as a surprise for Dean and in true form, Dean is ecstatic to have them in his home. The decorations adorning Dean’s home begin to come alive with energy they never had before. Music began drifting out from the house as Dean sings his favorite holiday tunes. Despite his desire to join them, Castiel’s heart fills with joy for the man that he fell for so quickly.

“Castiel.” Death’s voice comes from over his shoulder as he gazes down at the scene. He doesn’t pay him much attention.

Dean’s joyous laughter followed by his family’s echoes through to Castiel’s seat. His words worked, Dean Winchester has accepted that Christmas is about family. He’s surrounded by them right now, laughing and being merry. Catching up on all of the things he’s been missing since he was seven years old. Castiel’s work is done.

“How does it work?” he asks Death.

The brittle form of Death looks down on him. “Becoming a Christmas angel?”

Castiel nods, no meeting Death’s eyes.

“Oh it’s really quite simple.” Dean explains, “I will take the halo around your neck and sear it into your chest.”

“And then?”

“And then the halo will become part of you. You will be sent to Earth once more to spread the joy of Christmas.” Castiel whips his head up. “What?”

Death just grins. “Have you ever seen the people on Christmas doing the work of God? They are not always easy to spot. Some of them are feeding abandoned dogs. Some are telling stories to orphans. Some are serving in soup kitchens.”

“I don’t… I don’t understand.” Castiel croaks.

Death places a boney hand on his shoulder. “Castiel, Christmas angels are all around. They pass through the daily lives of humans each and everyday, spreading their given message of Christmas.”

“What does this mean?” Castiel asks, his being stuttering.

Death gazes down at him, unimpressed. “It means Castiel, that you are a Family Angel. A Christmas tree topper with the purpose of spreading love through the connections of kin.” Death looks over at Dean Winchester. “That man was the lowest believer in the family aspect of Christmas.” He turns back to Castiel. “Because you have convinced him, it is pertinent that you take this post being offered.”

Castiel scrambles to understand. “So I will be on Earth again?”

Dean nods.

“I can talk to humans. I can be friends with them?”

Death inclines his head. “As long as you keep to your purpose, there should be no problem.”

“I can go home?”

Dean smirks. “Yes, Castiel. If you take my offer, you may return to Dean Winchester.”

Relief floods through him and if he had a body, he is sure that he would have collapsed. There has never been better news than this. He musters up himself and meets Death’s eyes.

“I accept your offer.” Castiel braces himself as Death’s hand covers the pendant.

“This may sting.” Death warns. “Good luck, Castiel.”

In perspective, the pain is miniscule. It does nothing to override the feeling of complete joy in his bones as they form and his being drops to earth once more.

The breeze the catches his skin alters him to his corporeal form and he nearly cries. He glances around until he find Dean Winchester’s house. The next thing he know’s he’s running for his life towards the door. He hardly gets the chance to knock before the door is thrown open.

Chest heaving, he comes face-to-face with Dean Winchester.

Dean’s face is hard but his eyes are pleading. “Are… you going to leave again?” There’s a desperate tilt to his voice that matches the fire within Castiel’s chest.

Castiel shakes his head violently, no trusting his words. Reading his message loud and clear, Dean rushes forward. They meet in the middle in a passionate embrace. Castiel doesn’t register that he’s crying until Dean captures his mouth with his own and the taste of salty tears leaks through.