This is holiday fluff, pure and simple. It is Christmas on repeat. It is a hunter and his family. It is crappy Christmas songs shared with eggnog and twinkling lights. It is what happens when an insecure man has nothing to lose because it will all just happen again tomorrow. So, he might as well be happy, right?

The bunker was decked out in lights. The main hall with its long table was particularly festive. The table was covered in a long evergreen center piece. Through the branches were interspersed strands of red holly berries. Beyond the table there was an overly large Christmas tree propped up with dreams, for there was not one good reason for it to still be upright, leaning as it was. There was a long popcorn strand wrapped around it. The top was unadorned for now. There were plans for it though.

If the look of the place wasn't enough, there were the rich aromas of the holiday season drifting into the space from the kitchen. The melting butter paired with onions and sage roasted to a warm richness, the scent of which filled all of the empty spaces. Underneath it all was the sweet scent of dessert dancing up into the air to mix with the savory meal smells that were there before. There was cinnamon and nutmeg, the smells of of pumpkin pie. The table had on it, three full mugs of cider, just the apple kind, no added spike of courage. Each mug graced with a cinnamon stick to make it seem more festive. The smell of the apples rose from the mugs to join the other scents in a dancing steam.

The door opened and two figures stood at the top of the stairs, dumbfounded. As if the sights and smells were not enough, suddenly the room was filled with sound. The distant record sent forth the tinkling holiday tune throughout the bunker. "Jingle Bells" sung by Bing Crosby was welcoming. "Jingle Bells" sung by Bing Crosby and Dean Winchester was a very different experience, still welcoming, but certainly different.

Sam smiled down at the spectacle that was their home. The sights in front of him invited him forward. Cas stood at this side. "Has the bunker been breached?"

Sam laughed, "Not sure, maybe we should investigate."

Dean came out of the kitchen hall carrying a large platter of food, singing as he walked. He caught sight of his brother and his angel and smiled at them. "Merry Christmas!"

"I fear that there is some form of demonic possession at play here." Cas said with mock sincerity.

"I think that you are right." The two of them made their way down to the table and Dean handed each of them a mug of cider.

"Drink up." Dean said as he reached over and picked up an old Polaroid camera. He snapped a picture of Cas pulled it from the camera and fanned it back and forth in front of him.

"What are you doing, Dean?" Cas watched him as he walked over to the tree.

"Oh, nothing." Dean opened up a tall ladder next to the tree and climbed to the top. Using a safety pin and some twine, he tied the picture to the top of the tree. "There. Now it is officially Christmas." He declared down to them.

"Are you sure that he is not possessed?" Cas cocked his head to the side and leveled his gaze on Sam.

"I don't know, Cas. Maybe you should check." Sam was laughing a little as Dean came down from the ladder.

Cas walked up to Dean and looked at him closely. "He appears to be normal."

Dean leaned toward him and said, "I am fine. I am, in fact, better than fine. I am happy." He looked to each of them, the wide joy stretching across his face. "This holiday is the first we have had in, well ever, where we are not hunting or hunted. No one is dying, and the world is still turning."

"Definitely possessed," Sam pronounced.

Dean took Sam's mug and set it back on the table, scooped him up into a big off the ground bear hug and said, "Yep, totally possessed with the Christmas spirit, Sammy. Feel the love."

"Put me down, you big oaf." Dean set him down and then did the same to Cas.

It was different with Cas. "Dean, I am an angel of the Lord. Put me down."

"Nope. Not until you catch the Christmas spirit." Dean laughed at Cas' expression. Cas did not struggle the way that Sam had. He just went stiff as a board and waited for Dean to give up.

"I have more patience than you. I am also immortal, so eventually you will set me down or die." Sam started laughing at the ridiculousness of the stand-off, or hug-off, or whatever this was.

"How did I manage to avoid the prolonged torment?" Sam smirked.

"You, are surprisingly less stubborn. Plus, I could already feel the Christmas spirit in you, Sammy." Dean turned toward the kitchen, still holding Cas, mind you. "Um, so, Sammy, will you go get the rest of the food from the kitchen? My hands are kind of full." Sammy laughed even more, but he did what Dean asked. He headed off to the kitchen and Dean stood awkwardly with Cas. "So, uh, how's it going, Cas?"

"You have not thought this through, have you Dean?"

"I don't know what you are talking about."

"So, how does this little scenario of yours end?"

"It ends when you get the Christmas spirit. None of this, Dean's possessed stuff, none of this grumpy, gravely voiced stuff, none of the concerned looks or worried expressions. You just need to be, ya know, happy." Dean shifted a bit and Cas maintained his stiff posture in Dean's arms.

"How will you know when I have accomplished this?" Cas looked at him pointedly.

"I'll know." Dean smiled up at him. Cas smiled back, but it seemed stiff. "Nope, not real enough."

"What do you mean?"

"Your smile was not sincere. When you get the Christmas spirit, it will smile out of your eyes."

"I may have been wrong about my patience, being greater than yours. I may have to smite you." At that, Dean saw Cas smile from his mouth to his eyes. Leave it to his angel to find the Christmas spirit through threats of violence, however insincere the threat. He pretended not to notice it for a few moments more though. Despite the ache in his arms at holding Cas like this for too long, Dean wasn't quite ready to give up.

Bing Crosby was now crooning "White Christmas" and Dean started singing along. Cas lowered his head a little and said, "Merry Christmas, Dean."

And Dean felt the shift in the air around them, the subtle change of mood from one moment to the next. "Merry Christmas, Cas." He set him down slowly and loosened his grip. He began singing again and the two of them lingered, and the evening would prove to be, as the song proclaimed, merry and bright.