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“How has this become our lives?” Dean didn’t have an answer to that. He could only shrug and pull the blanket tighter around his shoulder. There was a bitter twinge in the air as the night grew darker. It’d frost tonight. He’d have to make sure the patrol checks the southern fences… the cold wouldn’t be kind on the rusted links.
Beside him Cas shifted slightly. He wanted to ask what happened. He wanted an explanation but Dean just— didn’t have one. The silence lay thick between them, words neither knew how to voice rising and dying on frozen lips. Maybe it was safer this way.
Safer for them both. “Did you ever decorate for Christmas?” It was such a blunt off handed question that Dean was startled out of his thoughts. Brows raising he looked over at where Cas was perched on Baby’s hood. His half lidded eyes were on the fires blazing in the distance, and his mouth was pinched at the corners, just a subtle twitch away from a frown.
“What?”
“Decorate. Like with lights and trees and shit like that.” He shot a small glance over to Dean as he said it. And there was something there. Something buried deep in his own longing. It was an expression he was familiar with himself. That want for something so mundane and normal. The need to let it all be swept away in artificial lights and fake pine trees.
Looking down at his shoes against the dirty hood Dean sighed, “Sometimes.” He remembered, once upon a time, helping put ornaments on a tree. He remembered sneaking candy canes when John hadn’t been watching. He remembered baking cookies with his mom. He remembered stringing lights on a tree that first Christmas after Mary… Sam’s first Christmas. “When we got older and started moving around we just kinda… stopped.”
He could feel Cas nod beside him before he even looked over, a thoughtful look on his face. “We should decorate.” The idea was so absurd to Dean though. Why in the world would they decorate for a holiday that all but didn’t exist anymore? What purpose would it serve. He didn’t give a verbal answer. Cas seemed to pick up on his opposition to it though and just shrugged. The distant longing in his gaze dimmed and Dean almost felt bad about it.
In the distance something exploded and the fires flared brighter briefly. It lit up the night around them in a mockery of a welcoming fire. Tipping his head back Dean looked up at the small amount of dark purple black sky through the trees and smoke. If only it were that simple. That they could pretend things were still normal enough to warrant something so mundane as Christmas lights. Rolling his head over, he let his gaze settle on Cas.
He looked so small, sitting with his legs tucked up to his chest and huddled under a blanket. He had his chin resting on his knees, with his arms folded around in front of his shins. The firelight played over his face and burnished the ring of his hair in gold. Dean felt his heart clench at the sight. Angelic was the only word he could find to describe how he looked in that moment. He felt sick to even think it.
He thought of the little plastic angel they’d always had on their tree. Of the little white wings Dean had always made sure were clean before stowing her away in a box. Of the small harp Sam accidentally broke off when he was three. He thought of the gold halo that had a little light bulb in it to light up. The only light he’d always made sure worked. Year after year. He wondered absently whatever happened to her.
The little plastic angel who held so much sentiment though Dean couldn’t really explain why. “I had one decoration I always put out.” He said then, watching the flickering light across Cas’s cheeks and lips. He wasn’t sure why he was telling him about it, but it just felt… right. In that moment, it all felt right. “It was a small tree topper angel. You know the kind where it’s all plastic but with a fabric circle around the skirt?”
Cas humed in acknowledgement, no doubt he’d seen it at least once before. Whether he’d known what it was then or not, Dean didn’t know. “Her harp was broken off, and her wings were kinda wonky, but she had a bulb on her halo that made it light up.” He swallowed and looked away from the former Angel for a moment to mutter, “It was my favorite thing about Christmas.”
“A little plastic angel?” The disbelief in Cas’s tone made Dean smile slightly as he looked back up. He gave a curt nod and shrugged one shoulder. “With a light for a halo.”
He watched the light dance on dark hair. A halo in its own right. “Yeah. I lost her some years ago though. Not sure what happened.” He resisted the urge to reach out a hand and brush the hair back from Cas’s forehead. To touch the light seeming to surround him and see if it was real. To make sure this little angel didn’t disappear on him too. Maybe they could find something to put up. Maybe he could find tacky green and red candles since string lights were probably out of the question, unless they could find battery powered ones.
“I am… sorry.” Maybe… Cas leaned back against the windshield beside him, their shoulders were just barely brushing against each other. The warmth from him was still enough to send a jolt down Dean’s spine though. Closing his eyes he tipped his head back again and smiled. Maybe, just maybe, he still had his little Christmas angel afterall.
Leaning his head over slightly, Dean let his cheek rest against the top of Cas’s head. “I’m not. I still have one angel anyway.”
“I don’t have a light up halo, or any halo for that matter.” There was a beat of silence and then, "I am also not an angel anymore, Dean."
A long sigh tinged in fondness, "I know, Cas. Just take the sentiment for what it is, you dumbass."