Author's Note: This story turned out to be slightly angstier than I'd planned, so here's the fluffy conclusion. I've only been watching this show for a couple of months and I'm planning on writing more fluffy Castiel fics next year, so you might want to check my profile now and then for similar stories (the first two chapters of my mini-series Winging It are already up if you fancy a new read). Happy Christmas, and thanks to everyone reading!

It continued to snow for the rest of the day, much to Dean's frustration. He could only watch through the window as any lingering footprints were swept away and more icicles formed on the streetlights lining the roads. Even Sam grew restless once he'd finished his book and there was no Wi-Fi to occupy him.

By nightfall the worst of the weather had passed, and when the morning arrived Dean saw that the grey clouds had lifted. If they were going to drive out of here, this was probably their best chance.

In the parking lot the snow nearly reached the top of his boots. He waded over to the Impala and took a shovel out of the trunk (always useful for late night grave-digging). He dug out the wheels, brushed the snow off the windscreen and scraped the ice off the mirrors. Yeah, she'd be good to go as soon as they were packed up.

They made their way out of the motel with arms full of bags and suitcases. Aside from a slight limp Sam was back to his usual self, humming cheerfully as he crunched through the fresh snow. The morning air was like sandpaper on his face, and as Dean puffed out a cloud of breath he thought longingly of finding a nice, warm diner on the drive back. He'd eaten about as much canned food as he could stand this week.

He was halfway to the car when something punched him hard in the middle of the chest. For a moment he thought he'd been shot and he dropped the bags on the ground, but then bits of cold snow sprayed in his face.

'What the-' Dean looked around at Sam, who was following a little way behind. He had a suitcase in either hand and was looking back at the motel as he walked, completely unaware of what had just happened.

Shading his eyes against the glare of the winter sun, Dean surveyed the parking lot. All the other cars were still frozen solid, and the only footprints were those he'd already made. There was no one else here.

'You okay?' Sam halted beside him, noticing the bags on the ground.

Dean narrowed his eyes but he couldn't see anyone hiding behind the cars. It was probably some kids with nothing better to do. In a town like this you couldn't blame them for being bored out of their skulls. He turned back to Sam, opening his mouth to voice his suspicions.

The second snowball hit him in the face, instantly numbing his cheeks and making his eyes sting. He stumbled blindly and nearly fell over his own suitcase, muttering curses under his breath.

Sam looked around apprehensively. With his superior height, he was probably the more desirable target. They waited in tense silence for several long seconds, but it seemed that the perpetrator had lost interest. With a shrug and a heavy sigh, Dean bent down to pick up his bags.

The next one smashed across his back. Dean yelped and shielded his face with an arm as three more pelted him, coating his shoulder and back with freezing dampness. He hadn't bothered to wear his thick coat since it was only a short walk to the Impala. He shuddered in his thin jacket and glanced around the empty lot in anger. 'Okay, who's doing that?' he demanded.

Another snowball hit him in the back, this time from the other end of the parking lot. Dean wheeled around, scrutinising the surrounding buildings. Had the ghost returned to get payback?

Meanwhile Sam was laughing openly, and had left his luggage on the ground to watch.

Dean rounded on him. 'Sam, if this is you-'

'Hey, don't look at me!' He opened his arms out innocently. 'I think you must have angered the ghost of Christmas spirit.'

He snorted, then groaned in frustration as yet another snowball cuffed him upside the head and snow melted down the back of his neck. 'Well whoever you are, I'm not in the mood to be messed around with! You hear?' he shouted at the sky.

'Uh, Dean?' Sam was looking at something over his shoulder, his eyes wide.

'What?' he snapped, and turned around.

And what must have been a dozen snowballs came hailing down from above. The sheer force of them knocked him to the ground, robbing him of any remaining body warmth. It was like being pummelled with freezing-cold boxing gloves. There was snow in his ears, down his shirt, in his boots...

'Okay, I give up!' he wailed, curling into a ball on the ground. 'I give up, you son-of-a-bitch, I give up!'

Sam was still laughing as he called out, 'Alright dude, leave him alone. He's gonna become a popsicle in a minute.'

The assault stopped as suddenly as it had begun, and Dean was left hunched amongst the suitcases in snow that was now level with his shoulders. He raised his head slowly.

Castiel stood in front of him, as calm and unruffled as ever without so much as a snowflake in his hair.

'What the hell was that?' Dean choked. Snow clung to his hair and clothes as he staggered to his feet.

Castiel tilted his head to one side and squinted slightly in the way he always did when puzzled. 'I believe this is what you call a snowball fight, Dean.'

'What?' He clapped his hands to his arms to try and get some feeling back into them. He felt as though he'd crawled out of a frozen lake and then been beaten up by a snowman. 'Cas, that's not how snowball fights work-' Then he broke off when he saw the corner of the angel's mouth turn upwards. Castiel was smirking.

'That was awesome.' Sam sighed happily, still grinning. 'I didn't think your voice went that high.'

'Shut up, Sam.' Dean shook the snow off the bags and hoisted them up again, his cheeks warming slightly. 'Y'know, for an angel you're pretty damn sadistic,' he said, trying and failing to keep the shivering out of his voice. 'I wouldn't have thought you were the kind of guy to bear a grudge.'

'I'm not,' he said seriously, 'but by your standards this means we're even.'

Dean failed to see how a tidal wave of snowballs equalled one thrown in jest, but he chose to leave it be. Judging by the majority of angels he'd seen, he was lucky not to have been zapped to the North Pole.

'Anyway, sometimes angels get bored of freezing our asses off,' he added matter-of-factly, following him to the car.

Despite himself, Dean felt a smile playing across his face. 'I think I taught you too well.' He dumped the bags in the trunk.

When he turned back, Castiel was watching him with a thoughtful look on his face. Dean automatically winced as the angel touched two fingers to his shoulder, then raised his eyebrows when he realised that his clothes were suddenly dry, warm as though they'd just come off the radiator. Castiel nodded once and stepped back, and he recognised it for the apology it was. 'Thanks, Cas,' he said as he shut the lid down. 'Remind me to never piss you off unless we're somewhere sunny.'

'Did you need anything by the way?' Sam asked as he opened the passenger door and got in. 'I mean, no offence but when you show up it's usually to warn us about something.'

Castiel glanced between the two of them, suddenly hesitant. 'No, actually. I... I just wanted to check on you. In case you required my help for anything.' He blinked. 'Since I am not needed I should probably be going.' But he didn't move from where he was standing.

For all of his superhuman powers, the guy had a lot to learn about lying. Perhaps angels weren't supposed to have human emotions, but Dean sometimes wondered if Castiel ever got lonely now he was cut off from Heaven. Maybe he was more human than he wanted to admit. He climbed into the driver's seat and switched on the ignition. 'Well, we're off to find a diner and warm up. You wanna come with?'

'I don't need to eat, Dean.' Castiel tilted his head slightly, considering them. 'But I will accompany you, if you're sure.'

Dean waited for him to open the door, then glanced in the driver's mirror and saw that he was already sitting in the back. 'Team Free Will is back on the road!' he announced, relishing the growl of the engine as the car fought its way through the snow and emerged onto the road.

Sam stiffened slightly and turned to peer out of the window. His tense expression was reflected in the glass, and Dean realised that his words were too much of a reminder for what they had yet to face. Not a subject for empty stomachs.

'And our first mission,' he continued, his tone deadly sombre, 'is to find pie.'

Slowly, a tiny smile grew on Sam's face. 'A noble quest,' he agreed soberly.

'Is this likely to be a difficult venture?' Castiel piped up from the back, the sarcasm utterly lost on him.

Sam snorted. 'With Dean at the wheel? He could sniff one out a mile away.'

'Hey, I know what my priorities are.' Dean switched on the CD player and dug out one of his old AC/DC albums. The rock music filled the car as they rumbled down the highway, and he realised he was home.

'I don't understand.' In the back, Castiel was still frowning. 'Why is pie so important?'

Dean drummed his fingers on the wheel and let out a long sigh. 'Not even you should be asking that question. You have got some things to learn about the human world, Cas.'

'Then show me,' he requested.

Sam groaned as Dean punched the air triumphantly. There weren't many subjects he could be considered an expert in, but pie 101 was definitely one of them. 'That's the best thing I've heard all week. Pie it is.'

Snow began falling as the Impala sped up and left the tiny town far behind. Pie was a worthy goal indeed.