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Dean swaggered out of the bathroom of their cheap craptastic motel room, looking very pleased with himself. Sam sat back in his chair to study his brother.
"Dean, who paid for that blue silk suit?"
Dean looked smug. "Edward Teach."
"You know one day we're gonna get caught."
Dean shrugged. "Maybe. Hey Cassy, like my suit?"
Sam had a feeling Cas would like Dean in a rotting cartoon oak barrel. The angel's blue eyes sparkled.
"I like it on you."
"He'd like it better off you," said Sam.
"I would," said Cas.
Dean walked over to his angel and gave him a kiss. "I'll miss you."
"I'll miss you too. I'll be back on the 26th."
"I'll be waiting." A few more kisses, then Dean was out the door, off to meet his newly acquired friend group.
Sam shook his head, but said nothing. They'd been hunting so long, it was hard to tell reasonable concern from paranoia anymore, but Sam did not like these guys. They stank of deception and ulterior motives, but Dean didn’t see it. All he knew was, for the first time in his life, he had a friend group. Castiel stood up and stretched.
"See you in a few days, Sam. Look after my Dean."
Pause. Sam and Castiel looked at each other. The angel’s eyes briefly flashed blue, and Sam knew they were both thinking the same thing. Then the angel was gone. Sam yawned and pulled out a text book. It wasn't easy studying law and keeping up with his scholarships, but he was doing his best. Some day the hunting would end; he would like to have a skill to fall back on when it did.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Sam woke up to the sound of his phone going off; it was the ringtone he used for Dean. He grabbed the phone and answered. It was 3:15 in the morning.
"Dean?"
Crackling, gasping. Someone in the distance yelling Dean's name in a mocking manner. Cough.
"Black Rock House," Dean managed, his voice rough and faint. Then the call ended.
Sam threw on his boots and coat, grabbed up his gun, and went tearing out into the night toward the safe house about a mile away from the motel. Black Rock House was a strange little house, or rather cave, carved into a cliff face, with a door that closed and locked. Inside was everything a hunter on the run needed; food, water, blankets, beds, first aid kits, other supplies, and, once the door was closed and locked, there was no way to tell where the door even was. If Dean was heading there, he was hurt, and scared. And someone was definitely after him.
Sam reached the small clearing before the house, just as the snow was starting to fall. He could hear dry twigs snapping, and several distant male voices laughing, whooping, calling Dean's name. Sam was just about to go looking, when he saw Dean stumble out of the trees and head for his brother.
"Sam..."
Sam grabbed Dean and hurried him into the house, almost tossing him onto the bed before going to close and bolt the heavy stone door. There were no windows, for obvious reasons; this was a hiding place. Sam lit one weak lantern, and walked over to Dean, who was sitting on the bed. His fancy blue suit was shredded, and it was clear someone, or several someones, had beaten the absolute hell out of him.
"Dean what happened?" Sam asked as he began peeling off the shredded suit. He could hear the male voices laughing and coming closer.
"I don't know," said Dean. "We were drinking and playing pool, just a bunch of guys having fun. Then I started to feel really sick and dizzy, and Roddy helped me to a back room to lie down. But...then..."
Dean slipped out of the shirt and jacket, and showed Sam a long cut down his side, crudely stitched together. Sam noticed something was moving within the injury. As Dean gazed at Sam with a look of wounded confusion, outside the men were in the clearing not far from the door.
"Come on, Dean, buddy! It was just a joke! Where's your sense of humour? Come on, Dean..."
Sam washed his hands in cold water; there was no time to heat any. Dean slowly fell over onto the bed, and Sam opened the long incision over Dean's ribs to pull out what looked like a white paper giblets bag full of slugs. He used some lamp oil to light a quick fire in the hearth, and threw the bag in to burn after throwing a handful of salt on it. He checked inside of Dean once more, and found nothing else. He cleaned the cut as well as he was able, removed the last of the torn suit, and tossed in into a pile in the corner. Outside, the men prowled like a pack of wolves.
"Deeeaaaannnn....come out, come out, wherever you are..."
Sam quietly moved around, checking the locks, then the fire, making sure it wasn't smoking. The house was almost completely inaccessible once locked down, but if the people hunting Dean found the rudimentary chimney, they could do things to make life inside the little stone house unbearable.
Sam decided to let the fire burn out, and not attract any unwanted attention.
"I woke up on the floor," Dean whispered. "Four of them were holding me down. They were preforming some sort of ritual. Then their priest started cutting me open..."
Sam went to stand by the bed, taking Dean's hand. "It's okay Dean, we're safe now."
Dean sniffed. "Worst Christmas ever."
Sam nodded. "Yeah it is."
"Cassy.… I want Cassy…"
"Cassy can't come to you yet," said a quiet voice. "But I can."
Sam turned and pounced on Crowley, hugging him tightly.
"There, there, Moose. I'm here to help."
"I want him to live. A kiss for his life."
"I am not making that deal," said Crowley, gently pushing Sam back. "Very desperate men make very bad deals, and you are a very desperate man."
"But....?"
"Dear Sam. Any other man, I would take his soul and not blink. But you and Dean are not any other men. You're like ferrets in a locked cage; you will find a way out and through the least convenient hole possible. So we'll do this; one kiss, for seventy-two hours. By then Castiel will be back from his yuletide duties, and Dean will have improved."
"And what about the men outside?"
"Oh Cassy will want them for himself. He made me promise. Deal?"
Sam kissed Crowley, then stepped back, watching as the entire house lit up with holiday lights, the smell of food cooking, quiet Victorian carols playing, and a Christmas tree stood tall near the hearth. Two servants in Victorian era garb were preparing the feast, and standing in the middle of it, looking confused as hell and holding something that looked like a round basketball-sized bundle of fuzz, was Bobby. He set the fuzz-bundle down on the bed, and hugged Sam tightly.
"There's my Sam. I'm back, at least for a little while."
"We miss you so much..."
"I know. I miss you two idjits turnin' my hair grey too. But we'll all be together again one day."
"Hoo?"
Sam turned his head to look at the thing on the bed. It looked like a little round bear cub with an owl's face, and it seemed to be smiling. It had no tail to speak of, so it just waggled its entire bottom furiously.
"Hoo!"
Bobby sighed. "That's Peepers. I'm pet-sitting. She's an owlbear."
"They have owlbears in Heaven?"
"Heaven's weird, Sam. Just...weird."
"Hoo!"
“Very weird.”
Sam hugged Bobby once more. “I’m just so glad to see you again.”
A servant walked by, carrying a first aid kit. Carefully and deftly, they cleaned and stitched Dean’s worst injuries, bandaging several. He was dressed in a natural linen nightshirt, and allowed to lounge on the comfortable bed, blinking sleepily. Peepers snuggled against him, pushing under his arm for cuddles.
“You are obnoxiously cute,” muttered Dean.
“Hoo.”
“So are we safe?” Sam asked, listening to Dean’s ‘friends’ outside.
“Oh yes. Perfectly,” said Crowley, helping himself to some eggnog. “That was the deal. Safety, comfort, peace, holiday cheer, family…”
“Hoo.”
“And apparently an owlbear.”
“Well I couldn’t leave her alone,” said Bobby.
“And what are we going to do when she needs to potty?” asked Sam.
“Oh she knows how to work a toilet,” said Bobby. There was a pause. “Heaven’s weird, Sam.”
“Are you okay up there?” asked Sam, becoming worried.
“Oh I’m fine. I have my own place, and a shop where I can work on cars, and sometimes a bunch of us get to go on a hunt. There’s all kinds of stuff. It’s great. No more sitting in a box, reliving old memories. It’s like all the best parts of living on Earth, just with…”
“Hoo.”
“Owlbears.”
Dean was gently petting Peepers on the head. “Well I’m hungry. Are you hungry?”
The entire bed shook with the force of the butt-waggle.
“She’s a pet, she’s always hungry.” Bobby went to sit on the edge of the bed, taking Dean’s hand as the servants began preparing plates. “What happened?”
Dean carefully adjusted his position on the bed. “I went out with my… alleged friends. They told me to dress nice because we were going to a high-end club, so I got a really nice dark blue silk suit with a pearl grey silk shirt. The guys picked me up, and we went to this club. We played pool, had a few drinks, and I started to feel really weird. It got hard to stand, and think, and the last thing I remember, I was on the floor. Woke up in time for my own ritual sacrifice. I don’t know how I got away, I don’t know how I got to the house, I don’t even know how I managed to call Sam. I’m still not sure where I am or if any of this is even real. Am I okay?”
Sam drew up a chair to sit beside the bed. “You will be.”
“Bobby?”
“I’m here. Y’got me for a few days, before I have to go back. You’re okay, Dean.”
“They said I was gonna be a host for all these larva.”
“I got them out,” said Sam. “They are gone.”
All those gathered in the little house listened as they could hear a furious older man screaming.
“You find that son of a bitch and you find him now! Do you know how long it took to cultivate those eggs?! Do you have any idea what will happen to us if we don’t find that bastard by morning on Boxing Day?! Who let him go?!”
“We thought he was unconscious!”
Bobby narrowed his eyes. “You sure Cassy won’t let us pick off one of them bastards?”
“Cassy was very clear,” said Crowley. “He was wearing his angel robes and everything. Trust me, as soon as God deems his holy duties fulfilled, we are going to see one angry little pigeon. We’re safe. Let’s have dinner.”
BUTT WAGGLE ACTIVATE!!! The entire bed shook with the force of the wiggle, and once her plate was on the floor, Peepers lunged for her dinner; Norwegian kippers on a gold dish.
“She’s certainly hungry,” said Sam.
“No she’s not, she cleared out a full left flank of a buck before we were summoned here,” said Bobby. “She’s just a vacuum cleaner, like any baby.”
They watched the little owlbear, butt waggling as she devoured her dinner.
“Okay,” said Dean. “Bears do not wag their tails. Owls do not wag their tails. So why…?”
The butt continued to waggle.
“Be good for shaking paint cans,” said Sam.
Bobby walked over to the door and listened, hearing a lot of fury from Dean’s former friends. Deals had been made, promises had to be kept. Dean had not been chosen at random. Bobby glanced at Crowley as the King of Hell drew close.
“Who was Dean promised to?”
“Lucifer,” said Crowley.
“I thought he was locked up.”
“He is, but he can still influence the weak-minded. Right now he is influencing these idiots to make one of the worse decisions of their lives by insisting that Dean Winchester be a vessel to house demonic larvae. Sam what did you do with those worms?”
“Burned and salted them.”
“Good boy,” said Crowley softly, listening with Bobby to the rage of the group leader.
"They're angry," said Bobby.
"Furious, I would say," said Crowley. "And scared. Lucifer may be locked in a cage, but he still has power and influence, it's just minimized. And clearly they do not know that Sam removed the parasites and burned them."
There is more screaming and threats from outside. Bobby looked at Peepers as she gleefully scurried around, hooing. "Can they hear us?"
"No. Safety was part of the deal. We can hear them. They cannot hear us. Now let's eat."
Dinner was more in keeping with how Crowley remembered it; roast venison and boar, mince pies, roast swan, Christmas desserts made with plums and prunes, numerous wines and other alcohols, and random delicacies. Sam mostly avoided the meats, until Dean tried the swan.
"Oh Sammy you gotta try this. So good!"
"All swans belong to the Queen, you know," said Crowley. "Due to how delicious they are. So we are being dreadfully naughty by eating this one."
Sam tried it. Well it was tasty, but he didn't think it was worth getting hung for, as poachers in the past likely would have been. Peepers meanwhile was on the bed and in full mooch mode, having figured out Dean was the softest touch.
"Hey Peepers, do you know any tricks?"
"Ask her who let the bears out," said Bobby.
"Peepers! Who let the bears out?"
"Hoo! Hoo! Hoo-hoo!"
Dean laughed. "That's amazing! You're a smart little thing, aren't you?" He looked at Bobby. "So how long do we get to keep you for?"
"Until the deal ends. Then I go back. At least I'm not in that horrible little box anymore, rememberin' stuff. Heaven's supposed to be a reward, not a sentence. Now I'm in a place where I can do whatever I want. I miss you kids. But I'm happy. We'll all be together one day."
Sam looked at Dean, who was feeding Peepers stuffing. "How are you feeling?"
"Like five guys beat the hell out of me, but better. When you first found me, I would swear I was dying."
"Yeah you were in pretty bad shape," said Sam. He almost said to Dean "I told you they were bad news," but he had a feeling that Dean felt bad enough already. Dean wanted a friend-group. He wanted to be part of something most people had. And they used him. He had to be pretty damn broken up about it. Best to just let him sit on the bed and feed the owlbear. Sam looked around the small house.
"Well it's Christmas Eve. Is Santa going to come down the chimney? Dean, what would you like for Christmas?"
Dean just shook his head, his mood having clearly crashed. "I don't know. I'll have to think about it."
Sam looked at Bobby. "What about you?"
"I dunno. I think I have it, right here. How about you, Crowley?"
Crowley sighed. "How about a terribly handsome hunter with his own delightful vernacular?"
"After some of the shit you've pulled?"
"I'm a demon, I can't help myself! It's not fair to judge me by my actions, you know. What about you, Sam?"
Sam looked at Dean. "I want Dean to be happy."
Dean was finished his dinner, and was cuddling Peepers. "You should wish for something else, because we all know that ain't gonna happen."
Sam walked over to the bed, seating himself on it and drawing Dean close, embracing him. "How about a shiny new car?"
"How about no? I like my car."
"You wouldn't want a big green SUV with daisies on the hood?"
"Sam I have an attack hooter, and I'm not afraid to use it."
"Hoo."
"Does she attack?" Sam asked Bobby.
"Nah. She's a pet. Her job is snugglin' people, tryin' to make them happy. Peepers is pretty sure there's nothing she can't fix with the magic of owlbear love. No one's ever told her different, and I hope no one ever does. I think it would break her heart to learn that owlbear magic ain't real."
"Are you magic?" Dean asked Peepers.
"Hoo."
"You know what I think? I think it's time for little owlbears to be in bed. It's getting late."
It was getting late, and it had been a long night. Sam ended up sleeping in bed with Dean and Peepers, Bobby on the pull-out couch that probably had not been there earlier, and Crowley just silently vanished. The lights were lowered, and a peace settled in the little stone house, the only sound the quiet crackle of the fire, and the distant screams of some very frustrated cultists. Dean rolled onto his side and spooned the round ball of fuzz under the covers. He looked down into huge golden eyes.
"I think you're magic," Dean whispered.
"Hoo," Peepers whispered back.
~*~*~*~*~*~
It had been a very late night, and it was nearly noon when anyone began to stir. Peepers was up first, heading into the bathroom to take care of owlbear business, then hopping onto the counter to hit the switch on the coffee maker. Sam awoke to the sound of angry cultists.
“Are they still out there?” he asked blearily.
Slowly he sat up, and realized he was wearing flannel footie PJs decorated with smiling cartoon moose. He sighed.
“Crowley…”
“Oh don’t blame me, dear boy. Blame the seraph.”
Sam looked in the direction Crowley indicated, and was confronted with an eight foot seraph dressed in what could only be described as a slutty pink Santa outfit.
“Merry GAY-mas! I’m Sebastian, I am here to make your holiday GAY!”
“I wish I’d died,” groaned Dean. He sat up and found he was also in flannel footie PJs, but his were covered in cartoon squirrels. “Lovely.”
“Now don’t be grumpy! Flaming Gay Santa only comes to good boys. Or those who have been VERY naughty. Let me see that incision.”
Dean wanted to protest, but then the top half of his sleepers opened. Sebastian seated himself on the bed and looked at the cut where the cultists had sliced him open to put the larvae inside of him.
“Is he okay?” asked Sam.
“I see the start of an infection, but I can fix that. Other than that, nothing rest can’t handle. He’s good.”
Bobby slowly sat up, wearing footie PJs with smiling tow trucks on them. He gazed down at them, then flopped back down and pulled the blankets over his head. It was too early for this shit. Peepers bounced over to Sebastian. He rubbed her little head.
“Can you say “hoo hoo motherfucker”?”
“HOO!”
“Close enough. Baby bear want breakfast?”
Sebastian fed Peepers, then vanished to wherever it was big gay seraphim went. Sam slid out of bed and went to the fridge to check for anything he wanted to eat.
“FIND HIM!” someone screamed outside.
“Have those idiots been out there all night?” asked Sam, finding a few things for breakfast.
“They’re a little desperate,” said Crowley. “Those things you pulled out of Dean and torched are a vital part of their cult. They’re working on the assumption that Dean is alive and in the area, because they have no alternative. To lose the larvae is to lose everything they fought for.”
“Good,” muttered Sam. “Couldn’t happen to a nicer bunch of assholes. Dean do you want breakfast?”
Peepers immediately let Sam know that she was a poor sad starving cub who had never been fed once in her life, not ever!
“Well you know that word, don’t you? Bobby do we have proper owlbear food? I feel bad just letting her mooch.”
Crowley manifested a bowl of everything a good owlbear should have in their diet. Peepers vacuumed it down in record time and went right back to mooching. Sam sighed and gave her some swan meat. Dean adjusted his pillows and leaned back on them, doing up his PJs.
“Just slice some things up and put them on a plate. I’m hungry.”
Sam did, handing Dean the plate before returning to cooking his own food.
“Well, merry Christmas, everyone,” said Sam. He looked at Crowley. “Do demons celebrate Christmas?”
“No we just get drunk and complain a lot.”
“I’m in,” said Dean, munching swan meat. He looked to the door, hearing the cult leader lose his mind as dogs were brought in to find him. "We should make this a drinking game. Take a shot every time he screams 'find him' or 'how did you lose him' or why weren't you watching him?' Actually I have no idea how I escaped."
"Doesn't matter," said Sam. "You're here now. We're all here, it's Christmas day, let's just spend some time together before we lose Bobby again. Bobby you want some coffee and breakfast?"
"HOO!"
"NO! You're gonna explode! No wonder you're round."
"HOO!"
"No. You've had at least three breakfasts."
Peepers bounced and stomped her big feet. "HOO HOO HOO!"
"No."
"Bear abuser," said Crowley.
Sam rolled his eyes as Bobby sat up, gazing grumpily at his jammies.
"I used to have dignity,” Bobby said.
"Yeah we all did," said Sam, making cheese omelets. "Dignity, self-respect..."
Dean grinned. "Like that Christmas when you were...what? Fourteen?"
"Oh I love a juicy tale," said Crowley. "What happened?"
Sam looked annoyed. "Amanda Blake said if I kissed Dean she would go out with me. So I kissed my brother, which is bad enough, but he'd been living on beer and onions for the better part of the day and he puked on me."
"Did you at least get the date?" asked Bobby.
"NO! She just laughed." He looked at Crowley. "Can I hex Amanda Blake?"
"Consider it a Christmas gift."
"Thanks Crowley."
"Sorry I puked on you, Sammy."
"Yeah well you were pretty green when I kissed you, I should have seen it coming. Why were you eating onions?"
"Someone told me that onions help cleanse the system, and I had the flu."
Sam sighed. "So that's where I caught it."
Dean just grinned like the little shit he was, setting aside his plate.
"How do you feel?" asked Bobby.
"Sore. Very very sore. But happy to be here." He glanced at the tree. "Hey we have gifts. Cool! Where did those come from? Hey Bobby, there's one for you."
Bobby reached down to pick up the gift, unwrapping it warily. It was six bottles of a type of beer called Antarctic Nail Ale.
"I hope you enjoy it," said Crowley. "They're limited edition. Made from Antarctic ice and auctioned off at a fundraiser to save the whales. You know it's not easy to shop for the man who has everything."
"That sounds expensive."
"It was. Shut up and drink it."
Bobby chuckled. "We can try it tonight with dinner. Looks a little too fancy for day-drinking."
Peepers climbed up onto Dean's bed and looked at him with the huge eyes that were the reason for her name. "Hoo-HOOOO!"
"And what makes you think you can say that to my face?"
"HOO!" She fell over, showing her tummy. Dean rubbed it, listening to the histrionics happening outside.
"FIND HIM!"
"Boy they'd look really stupid if I was nowhere near here," said Dean.
"They likely have some form of tracker," said Crowley. "They know you're here. They just have no way of finding you."
"Would they have found me in the house if there were no magic shields?" asked Dean.
Bobby and Crowley looked around the secure little house. "I find it very unlikely," said Crowley. "But you would be in more danger than you are currently."
Dean rubbed the owlbear-belly, listening. "What did they put in me?" he asked.
"A type of larvae," said Crowley. "It would have slowly eaten you alive from the inside, causing excruciating agony, finally killing you as they burst forth as demonic wasps. And they would go on to repeat the cycle on the innocent. Even as a king of Hell I can't say I approve."
"Yeah I can't say it sounds like anything I want to experience."
"You're safe. I won't let anything happen to my Moose and Squirrel. Oh! Here, I got a message that someone wants to see you."
Mary Winchester was not at all pleased to be manifested in an old t-shirt, her favourite undies, wearing bunny slippers and with a toothbrush in her mouth, but here she was. She took out the toothbrush and pointed it at Crowley.
"I ought to spank you."
Gabriel manifested moments later. Crowley looked confused.
"Why are you here?"
"I heard a woman talking about spanking."
Crowley handed Mary a bathrobe, which she pulled on, and she walked over to Dean, hugging him. "How are you, baby?"
"A cult tried to use me to incubate bugs but I'm okay."
She stroked his hair, then went to hug Sam. "Hi Sammy."
"Why are you here? I mean I'm not complaining."
"Well Bobby came so I thought I should too. Uh...merry Christmas." She walked over to Bobby and hugged him as well, then looked at Gabriel. "So who's the spanker?"
"I prefer to be the spank-ee. The Archangel Gabriel at your service."
"Heaven's weird," said Bobby.
"Hoo."
Mary picked up Peepers and snuggled her, then looked around. "The place looks amazing, who cooked? Who decorated?"
"I think technically Crowley did," said Dean.
"The demon did." Mary did not sound convinced.
"Oh come on, everybody loves Christmas," said Crowley.
"If you don't find Dean Winchester in the next five minutes, I'm going to start shooting!!"
"Sounds like they're not having a happy holiday," said Mary.
"They kidnapped Dean and tried to use him as an incubator, and now if they don't find him by tomorrow, they're in deep trouble," said Sam.
"Can I kill them?" asked Mary.
"We promised Castiel that he could have them," said Crowley. "He'll be here tomorrow."
"Why Castiel, particularly?" asked Mary.
Silence. Sam looked at Dean, who gazed at Mary. Finally he said "Because Cas is my boyfriend, Mom. We're in love."
"Ooohhh I wish I'd known that door swung both ways," said Gabriel.
"In love...?" said Mary.
"Yeah. Very much. And Gabe, that door does not swing your way."
"Meanie." He looked at Mary. "So about the spanking..."
Mary ignored him and walked over to Dean. "So you're...gay? Bisexual?"
"The correct term is 'sapiosexual'. Sam taught me that word. It means I fall in love with people I have a deep connection with. Cas and I have that connection."
"He's an angel," said Mary.
Dean blinked. "And?"
"Yeah, 'and'?" said Gabriel, raising an eyebrow.
Whatever Mary was going to say, she didn't. She backtracked. "Nothing, this is just a surprising thing to learn about your child."
Dean looked at Bobby. "Sometimes I like boys."
"I figured that out when you were thirteen and every time Randy Miller walked by, your brains seemed to fall out."
"He was pretty cute," admitted Dean.
"Yeah and he could almost count to 'potato'," grumbled Bobby.
Gabriel poured himself a mimosa and said "Well it's Christmas, let the day-drinking begin."
"Hey why are you down here and Cas had to work?" asked Sam.
Gabriel gazed at Sam. "You don't know?"
"No."
"Really? And you a lore-master? Your precious Sassy Cassy is a True Archangel and a ruling Prince of the seventh tier of Heaven, where God sits. He's a guide. He's offering divine guidance to the souls who have perished through the year. He has other duties too, whereas I just beat the crap out of demons and tell confused young girls they're pregnant."
Sam grinned at the expression on Dean's face. "Nobody told me that!" exclaimed Dean.
"He can also, with permission from God, alter time. Sadly God never granted him permission to do that for you, even when he fell to his knees and begged." Gabriel sipped his orange juice and champagne. "He loves you, Dean."
"I don't think I deserve him," said Dean quietly.
"Castiel thinks you do. For that matter, so do I. Sam and Bobby do as well. I'm not sure what Mary thinks. Or Crowley. But yeah, you bagged a big one, Dean. A Prince of Heaven."
"I was so much happier not knowing that," said Dean.
"I suspect there were reasons Cas never mentioned that," said Sam.
"Probably. But I'm his celestial brother and it's my job to rat him out to his boyfriend." He looked at Mary. "Now about the spanking..."
Mary ignored him, cuddling Peepers. "This is a lot to take in," she said.
"Oh bollocks, let's just have fun!" said Crowley. "It's Christmas! What would Jesus do?"
"That's classified," said Gabriel. "But the demon has a point. Let's just relax and enjoy ourselves! We're all together! We have food, drink, gifts...owlbears..."
"Hoo."
"Let's play a drinking game, every time the bastards outside scream something about not knowing where Dean went, we take a shot," said Gabriel.
"And no spankings," said Crowley.
"No spankings!?" said Gabriel, appalled.
"Gabriel," said Crowley, sounding exasperated, "there are no less than three Winchesters in this room, which one of them would you like to beat some manners into you?"
"I get to pick? How about the grumpy one on the great big bed with the door that swings both ways?"
"That door has limited swing," said Dean. "Look, Gabe, give it a rest, or my mom and brother are gonna pound the crap out of you."
"Kinky."
The group froze as something large thudded into the door. Dean tried to get up, and quickly realized he couldn't; he was in too much pain. Sam came to stand near him, as baby Peepers huddled in Mary's arms.
"Hoo..." she said in a small worried voice.
There was a second thud against the door, then silence. After a little while there was more ranting and screaming, and those within the little house breathed a sigh of relief.
"Let's just have a quiet Christmas," said Sam.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Dean was snuggled into bed, an arm around Peepers, Sam beside him. The room was quiet, with everyone in bed, or, in Gabriel's case, off to do who knew what. It was just before sunrise, when Dean was gently awakened.
"Come along, Dean," said Crowley. "It's almost morning, and you will want to see this."
Dean slipped out of bed, getting bundled into a robe and slippers, and led to the door, walking slowly and painfully. One by one, Bobby, Sam, and Mary woke up.
"What's going on?" asked Sam sleepily.
"Vengeance is coming," said Crowley, sounding almost gleeful, eyes shining.
Curious, Mary, Bobby and Sam emerged from their beds to walk to the door as Crowley opened it wide. There were still stars visible, but the sky was growing brighter. Then there came a strange crackle of light; sparks and streaks and lightning bolts through the clouds, signifying the approach of something angry and powerful. The light play became faster and more furious, and Dean's hunters wandered into the little meadow before the stone house, staring up at the sky. Then there came a violent explosion of blinding light, and when it faded, there was a figure clad in white robes, wings extended to either side, eyes shining pure blue light.
"Cassy?" said Dean quietly.
Crowley walked into the yard, and came to stand beside Castiel, smiling. "Gentlemen permit me to give you a brief lesson in angelic behaviour. What our little Cassy here is doing is a thing called "mantling." Birds of prey do it to defend a carcass from other predators who may want to steal it. With angels....well it means you better have your affairs in order."
Crowley stepped aside, and Castiel lunged forward in a wave of white light. There was screaming, briefly, then silence. The light faded away, and soon all that was standing there was a familiar little shape in a trench coat, who hurried over to Dean and snuggled into his arms.
"I was worried!"
Dean returned the snuggle, smiling. "Yeah I was worried too! Why didn't you tell me you're a prince?"
"Didn't think it was important. Let's get you inside, how badly hurt are you?"
"Well I'm not hurt good, I can tell you that."
They went inside the brightly decorated house, closing the door against the freezing cold. Castiel helped Dean over to the bed, letting him get settled, then allowing Dean to pull him down and cuddle him. Mary looked at Bobby.
"That's an angel."
"Yes, that's an angel, that's a demon, I'm a ghost, and that's an owlbear. Peepers do you need to go out? C'mon, ya idjit bear."
"Hoo!"
Bobby took Peepers out to do her business and run through the snow like a round furry cannonball, while Dean just held Cas.
"I was scared."
"I was scared for you. I came as soon as I could. I never would have let those parasites have you."
Sam sat on the edge of the bed and drew the covers over Dean, letting him and Cas hold each other. He turned to look at his mother.
"How much longer do we get to keep you?"
"Til the evening," she said. "Once the sun goes down, Bobby and I have to go."
"Well we better make the most of it," said Sam.
~*~*~*~*~*~
It was the day after Boxing Day. Sam and Cas helped Dean into Baby, letting him lie down on the seat and covering him over.
"You okay?" asked Sam.
"I will be."
Sam shut the door and, by force of habit, got into the passenger seat. He looked over as Cas got behind the wheel.
"Home to the Bunker?" Castiel asked.
"Sounds good," said Sam.
"Can we stop for pizza along the way?" asked Dean.
"Anything for you," said Cas, smiling as he turned the car on. Sam got a weird feeling as he saw the angel's eyes briefly glint.
"Dean what's that you always say? Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole?"
"Yeah?" said Dean warily.
Cas let out a brief and decidedly evil little giggle as he put a cassette into the player. Moments later, they heard the Monkees playing the first strains of 'I'm a Believer'. Dean was horrified.
"NO! NO! Cas! Bad angel, no! No cookie!"
Cas giggled again and started the car forward as he and Sam bopped along to the Monkees.
"Noooooooooo!! I'm in Hell!"
"No you're not," said Sam. "We've both been there, they did not play the Monkees."
"No they played Justin Bieber!"
"Well there you go," said Cas, "this is much better. What kind of pizza do you want? Sam can phone ahead."
"I don't care but there better not be pineapple on it!"
"He's grumpy," said Cas.
"Yeah well he did have a cult try to use him as a terrarium," said Sam. "Hey Dean, you were almost an unwed mother."
"Keep it up and I'll make you an unwed...something."
Sam just laughed, and called ahead for a meatlover's pizza. No pineapple. Dean noticed something on the floor of the Impala, and picked it up, realizing that it was a small owlbear plushie with a tag on its ear. Dean read it.
"I ain't far."
Dean smiled and settled on the backseat, closing his eyes, holding the little owlbear close.