Christmas time
Sam and Dean were on a hunt with Cas. It was the perfect opportunity for you to set up all the Christmas decorations and set out their handmade Christmas gifts you made for each of them.
Your tree looked depressing, but you were confident the boys were going to love it.
Cas is the one who needs the smile the most. Ever since he was turned human, he hasn’t been the same lovable angel you knew before.
Dean was having trouble also, trying to help Sam recover from trials.
You were stopped in your train of thought as the bunker door opened.
“Merry Christmas!” You announced to the boys.
“Y/N? You did all this?” Sam asked.
“Figured we could all use it,” You shrugged.
“We didn’t get you anything, though,” Dean said.
“I don’t need anything, guys, I got you.”
You all sat around the small tree, and you gave Dean his present first.
He smiled as he opened the small bag to find a wood-burned carving of Baby on a leather cord necklace.
“To replace the Samuelet,” You laughed.
He put it on quickly then moved beside you, giving you a huge, tight hug.
“Thank you, sweetheart, I love it,” He whispered.
You stayed hugging each other for a while until he let you go; then you grabbed Sam’s present.
He took the box and opened it slowly. Inside he found your recreation of their dad’s journal.
“Figured you could write a sequel,” You told him.
He smiled brightly, ‘Thank you, Y/N, I definitely will.”
You grabbed Cas’ wrapped present and handed it to him.
“Thank you,” He said.
You smiled and said nothing.
You wanted to say nothing about his gift. It took you the longest to make, and you weren’t going to spoil it.
Cas carefully unwrapped his present and pulled out the blanket you made for him.
“You made that?” Dean asked.
You nodded with a smile, and Cas thanked you quietly.
“Well, now I feel bad!” Sam exclaimed.
“I do, too,” Dean joined in.
“Why?” You asked, “This was all for you guys!”
“You stay here, Y/N,” Sam said standing, “Don’t go anywhere.”
The boys all stood up and left quickly.
You wished they’d stayed a little longer.
But at the same time, you were thankful.
They wouldn’t have to be involved in this.
You started to hear the howls of the hellhounds approaching.
Your ten years were up.
One last Christmas.
One, bloody, bloody Christmas.