So my computer is acting up again ;-; I apologize these are so late (Advent isn't even still happening) but I was unable to upload anything the past few days. My last one is written on paper so I'll type it up and post it ASAP :). It will be a prequel to my story Sixteen Will Get You Twenty so if you're looking for something to read on Christmas you could do that :p
Things aren't going well for Castiel.
After spending a few days in the motel room re realizes that the Winchesters are dead or have someone found a way to return to their time. Eventually he manages to walk around and confirm that Sam and Dean have disappeared. Which is great for them but Castiel still doesn't have the juice to bring himself back and he's sure there aren't any angels that are willing to help him.
But he doesn't have any other choice so he gives himself another day to rest before he bucks up and gives it his all.
He ends up crashing into a Christmas tree instead.
"Oh," a tiny voice gasps from somewhere in the room. Castiel's entire body feels like it's on fire and it hurts to move even just enough to turn and look at whoever is walking slowly over to him. He feels little hands push under his jaw and twist his head up to the left.
"Who are you?" Castiel coughs and squints his eyes at the blurry object in front of him. "Dean…?"
"Are you Santa?" The little boy whispers. Castiel looks past the boy to the advent calendar taped to the wall behind his head.
"It is not even Christmas yet, Dean." The young Dean drops the angel's head and it smashes down against the ground again.
"If you're not Santa, how do you know my name?" Dean asks suspiciously. Castiel groans and attempts to push himself up.
"I'm an angel," Castiel wheezes. His arms give out and he falls back down, crushing a present beneath his arm.
"Whoa, I got an angel for Christmas!" Dean grins. He patters off somewhere out of Castiel's view and Castiel is struck by how cheerful this little Dean is, a short time before his mother's death. Castiel staggers to his feet, barely makes it to the couch before he collapses again, his bones aching in protest. Dean comes back, carrying a plate of cookies and handing it to Castiel. "I was saving these for Santa but I think you're much cooler."
"I don't need to eat," he tells the boy but takes one of the small cookies anyways. He is suddenly hit with the urge to warn Dean how different his life is going to be by next Christmas. He knows it won't change anything, just as Dean's warning to Mary didn't change anything, but the poor boy just looks so joyful right now. "Thank you, Dean."
"You're welcome," Dean smiles, his L's so soft that they're barely there.
"These are very good," Castiel tells him even though the pastries are a little burnt and too buttery. "Will you get me something to drink?"
Dean nods eagerly and runs back off to the kitchen. Castiel gives himself a moment to look around the happy home, there are pictures of Dean and his parents on the mantle, they look happy in a way Castiel has never seen a Winchester. It be nice to stay but he's already wasted too much time and there's an apocalypse going on back in his time. He leaves his half eaten cookie on the coffee table, he's gone by the time Dean returns with the milk.