Chapter Text
If asked, Dean would say that summer was his favourite season. He liked the heat of it, the light. There were fewer opportunities for something to sneak up on him when the dry grass crunched underfoot and darkness was scarce. Hunts were easier in summer, he'd say; everything was just a little bit lethargic, a little less careful, a little more prone to mistakes; of course they were too, but that just increased the thrill.
He also felt like doing more outside of hunting when the weather was consistently good. He'd drag Sam and Cas out on picnics and plan barbecues, inviting everyone in his contacts list that he actually enjoyed socialising with to spend the day enjoying good food, beer, and each other's company.
He liked seeing trees full of green, and the strongest flowers that could hack the heat. He liked being dry in a state where it was prone to drizzle. He liked the way large expanses of water glittered in the sun the way Cas' eyes did when he was happy, and he liked the way the sunlight brought the chestnut out of the angel's almost-black hair. He liked going for walks with Cas at dusk and not stopping until past midnight; seeing the stars felt more special in the summer, as though by making the effort to stay up later to see them they twinkled all the brighter.
Everything felt long in summer too, fixed, permanent almost. He liked that, the consistency of it, the slow drag of days full of laughter and experience. They'd take the less direct routes on the way to hunts, stopping off at tourist traps and museums and scenic places that caught their eye on the pretense of needing to stretch their legs.
Summer also meant July 4th, which meant calling a reluctant Rowena to enchant the positive armoury of fireworks he'd accumulated for his annual party.
"I'm not Gandalf," she'd complain every year, but she never once refused and always insisted on staying to watch and soak up all credit for how spectacular it inevitably was.
He always kept a few fireworks back though, and he'd wake Sam up in the middle of the night a few days later to complete the show. If Cas noticed (which of course he did), then he was gracious enough to not intrude, understanding that this was a tradition for the brothers alone.
Yes. If you asked him, Dean would be adamant that summer was his favourite season.
***
Sam, at the other end of the spectrum, would insist that winter was his favourite. He liked going jogging on crisp mornings, feeling the air sharp in his lungs, pushing himself faster to receive the warmth he earned only by his movement. He liked coming in to a bowl of his brother's homemade vegetable soup, which he only made in the winter because "This bitch-ass weather is the only thing that can justify eating something so green."
He liked curling up with a book and too many blankets, a mug of hot chocolate at his side.
He liked the hush that fell over the world in winter; fewer people left their homes unless they had to, especially when it snowed. Sam liked snow; he liked how it made everything fresh and clean, how paths that he'd walked all year suddenly seemed new. Hunting was easier in winter too, he'd say; snow made tracking less difficult and the radius of hunting grounds shrank dramatically as even monsters wanted to stay closer to home.
When they celebrated it, Sam liked Christmas. For Christmas Day itself, hunting permitting, Jody would invite them to Sioux Falls for a good meal, an exchanging of gifts and a gathering of friends. There was no tree, because Cas refused point-blank to top it with a crude imitation of his kin, and no religious aspect because they all agreed that it was just too weird to praise Chuck, but that didn't matter; there would be mulled wine in abundance and Claire poking fun at Cas' text speak and the swapping of stories and a roaring fire in the grate. Dean and Donna would 'help' Jody in the kitchen (which of course meant that they would try to avoid Jody's spatula when she caught them sneaking pieces of turkey or mini sausages) and Sam would find himself in an armchair by the fire, talking with Patience and Alex until he was called to help serve.
They celebrated on their own too though, and Sam liked those days just as much. The date changed each year, depending on what time they could get between hunts but it would usually be mid-December if they could manage it. Dean would whip up a special dinner (which always included an apple and cinnamon pie) and they'd drink beer and swap presents between themselves, taking the time to relax and spend time together that didn't involve an apocalypse or a strange murder or any kind of dire news at all.
Yes. Winter, Sam would say firmly, was most definitely his favourite season.
***
Castiel would say that it was important, therefore, that his favourite season was autumn; though he'd say it with a smile and an insistence that he didn't need to bridge the gap between the brothers, glad that he did anyway. It had taken him a long time to accept his place of belonging as a fixed thing and he always felt it more keenly in autumn. Though autumn wasn't fixed by any means, it was the season of change, which is what Castiel liked about it best.
The temperature didn't really affect him, but he knew that Dean was grateful that he no longer had to change his shirt and shower multiple times a day and that Sam was pleased to not yet need to put on a hat and gloves in addition to his sweater.
He wasn't convinced that autumn had any particular benefits for hunting; it was hard to walk quietly with dry leaves and squelching mud and the rain mingling with the adjustment to the darkening days made visibility difficult.
But there was just so much colour.
In the woods outside the bunker everything was highlighted with gold. Evergreens stubbornly clung to their virescence while the rest changed to varying shades of red, yellow and brown; trembling stems gave way until the ground was carpeted with the same, sinking into the softening ground to provide nutrients for the next generation of flora while the final rays of summer's warmth covered them all, making Dean's eyes sparkle and dancing with the auborn in his hair. Small animals were out in force too, preparing for the winter to come: rabbits grazing, squirrels endlessly planting their nuts, foxes scavenging for what they could find. It was a time of fervent activity, and a time of peace. Everything had a purpose in autumn, but it was an orderly chaos.
Castiel liked how the season seemed to act like a glue, bringing the occupants of the bunker together. Not that they were distant at other times of the year but while Dean still retained his frenetic energy from the summer and while Sam's excitement for the holiday season was growing and while Castiel was perfectly content, they made more time for each other; and while Cas enjoyed the larger get-togethers of their extended adopted family, he was even more fond of the simple game and movie nights that were held far more frequently in autumn, just the three of them.
It was in autumn that he had first saved Dean Winchester from Hell, and his unofficial Earth birthday, as termed by Dean, was a day that never passed without acknowledgement.
And then there was Thanksgiving, which had quickly become Castiel's favourite holiday. In between hunts and visiting friends the three of them would find a day; the morning would be dedicated to a small swapping of gifts and watching movies; Dean would go all out on the Thanksgiving meal, complete with pumpkin pie naturally, and after eating (because the brothers were too impatient to wait and there always leftovers for later anyway) they would each recite a list of ten things that they were thankful for and the reasons why. It was important that they make a list, without one it was all too easy to fall back on the generic things. Castiel knew that each brother added to and edited their lists throughout the year and he did the same, there was something truly special about bringing back a moment thought forgotten.
Castiel's first item was always a list of each time that Dean had said he loved him, much to Sam's glee and Dean's embarrassment.
What Castiel loved most about the tradition was that they never thanked God the way that the families in TV soaps did. No, they thanked each other: for staying together, for overcoming the odds, for apologies accepted, fights resolved, comforts given. They thanked each other for sharing their lives another year.
And regardless of the fact that only one of them would admit it, it was always this day that made each member of Team Free Will certain that autumn was their favourite season of the year.