Author's Note: I meant to get this out by Thanksgiving in the States, but I didn't have enough time to finish it by then. And I must apologise ahead of time if I got some of the Thanksgiving celebration/traditions wrong; I'm not native to the U.S.

Spoilers for all that has been aired of season 6 and this is mature rated. Slash, Dean/Castiel.

What I'm Thankful For

By: Sailor Moonac

The very first Thanksgiving Dean could remember was, ironically or not, the last one he spent as an only child. His mother had made a large roast turkey—too large for a family of three—with stuffing, cranberry sauce, mash potatoes, and most importantly, pie. A pumpkin pie in which a three year old Dean had been eyeing keenly since the moment it came out of the oven. And if the fact that Dean barely ate any turkey and instead ate a rather large portion of pie...well neither Mary or John had commented. In fact they had smiled quite indulgently, John holding Dean in his lap and Mary caressing her barely there baby bump.

That night when Mary had put Dean to bed, she pointed to the angel figurine on the window sill she had picked up nearly four years ago for 25 cents in a garage sale, and whispered to Dean that angels were watching over him. Dean had smiled brightly at that, his childish vibrant green eyes lighting with joy and promised to be a good big brother to the growing baby in Mary. Mary, smiled forlornly as Dean pressed his tiny palm to her small baby bump and wished that the joy she saw in her son's eyes would never die. But at that time, Mary was just thankful her son and husband was safe and happy. Mary would never know that was the last time she, John, Dean, and her unborn baby would ever celebrate Thanksgiving.

It was barely three weeks after Mary's death when Dean celebrated his first Thanksgiving without his mother and Sam celebrated his first Thanksgiving ever. But obviously, it was no celebration.

John was still grieving the loss of Mary and was confused, lost, and stressed out completely handling two young boys. Mike and Kate, the couple whose house the Winchesters were staying at, tried to be supportive of their friend despite their apprehensions about John's sanity. Because really, who has ever heard of a woman being pinned to the ceiling and a fire starting around her? It was faulty wiring, the couple insisted.

To help John, and more importantly, a young and confused Dean cope, Mike and Kate had created a traditional Thanksgiving meal. John had smiled weakly at his old friends, grateful but saddened while tending to a crying Sammy. Dean had silently picked at his dinner until Kate brought out a pumpkin pie; Dean had broke down bawling for his mother, causing Sam to cry even louder.

John had immediately retired to the guest room he was staying at with his two boys, leaving Mike and Kate worried downstairs with a forgotten Thanksgiving dinner.

John was gone by the time Christmas came around and every year at Thanksgiving, Mike and Kate made sure to say a prayer for the Winchesters, whom they have never heard from again.

The years since that last Thanksgiving at the couple's house, who's name Dean had long since forgotten—if he ever knew it in the first place—consisted mostly of semi-warm microwave dinners in a dingy motel room with Sam and, on rare occasions, his father. If they were really lucky, it would have been a bucket of fried chicken...with their father usually passed out on the couch. But Sam was young and had never experienced a true Thanksgiving, so Dean tried to make the best of it. Sam was never really enthused by his brother, but Dean thought Sam was trying to humour him, especially that one time in Wisconsin when they ended up getting into a food fight. Unfortunately for the Winchester brothers, in the middle of their food fight, their father had returned from his hunt and ended up severely reprimanding Dean. Dean had went to bed angry and hungry that Thanksgiving, but smiled when his baby brother crawled into bed with that night with an apology.

There were very few memorable Thanksgivings for Dean aside from the one that ended up in a food fight. There was one Dean vaguely remembered when he was eleven or twelve, but that was only because their father had bought turkey and sides from Boston Market, which was definitely better than microwaved meals.

Another Thanksgiving Dean remembered clearly was when he was fifteen and Sam eleven. It was only memorable to Dean since Sam had decided to go to a friend's house for Thanksgiving and their Dad was once again out on a hunt. That was the also the first time Dean had gotten so drunk that he was throwing up all next morning. It wasn't until years later when Dean and Sam were murdered by Walt and Roy, that Dean found out how Sam's Thanksgiving went that year, in Heaven. In a way, Dean was glad that Sam had at least one chance to experience a 'normal' Thanksgiving—something like what Dean had when his mother was still alive—but the unforgiving burn of his vomit was a more clearer memory of that day.

Even after returning from hell, Dean and Sam didn't really break from their own 'tradition' of beer and a bucket of fried chicken for Thanksgiving. The only difference, Dean ponders, is that Dean has to be thankful to Castiel for pulling him out of Hell. But the clear memory of his torture and him torturing in Hell always washes away the any feelings of gratitude, and Dean can't help but wish Castiel had left him in Hell.

When the Apocalypse started, Dean and Sam didn't even realise they had missed Thanksgiving until Bobby had slammed down two cold beers in front of the brothers and mumbled a bitter 'Merry Christmas,' before returning to the books to try to track down the elusive second-in-command demon, Crowley. Dean and Sam had exchanged looks of surprise before turning to look at the calender on Bobby's desk, which indicated the fact that it was Christmas. Dean had volunteered to go out and get dinner that night, determined to get a semi-descent meal because damn it, it was the Apocalypse. But the local markets and restaurants were either closed or were all fast food. In the end, Dean returned to Bobby's with a cold pizza only to be surprised by Castiel, who stopped by with a warm apple pie he had picked up at a bakery in New York City. Dean almost hugged Castiel that night, but instead fought down that urge and settled for a hard clap on his unmoving shoulders before pressing a beer into his hands. That Thanksgiving/Christmas was memorable to Dean, only because Castiel had brought a warm, fresh pie that they all ate with gusto, ignoring the cold pizza. Sadly, Dean reflected, it was probably the best Thanksgiving/Christmas he has had in a long time, during the Apocalypse none the less.

The next Thanksgiving was...very conflicting. Yes, Dean was celebrating Thanksgiving with Lisa and Ben with an actual turkey with stuffing, and mash potatoes, and cranberry sauce, and casseroles, and pie...but Sam was in Hell. Or at least, at that time Dean thought Sam was in Hell. Either way, that Thanksgiving was a blur to Dean, mostly because he had drank most of the night away after eating dinner with Lisa and Ben and threw up most of the next morning. Dean could vaguely remember Lisa trying to comfort him and get him to stop drinking, but that was a distant memory.

It was Thanksgiving, and Lisa and Ben were tucked away safe away from Dean, and Sam was soulless. That was the first though that went through Dean's mind as he woke up and automatically, habitually, looked over at Sam's un-slept bed. Dean groaned loudly before turning to look at Sam at the table in their small kitchenette of their motel. Sam was focused intensely on his laptop and mutely pointed to a large cup of coffee to his left, clearly left for Dean. Dean mumbled a vague thanks before rolling out of bed to shower, grabbing the cup of coffee on his way in.

Closing the door quietly and locking it behind him, Dean sighed deeply before taking a deep draught of his coffee, winching at the heat of the beverage. Dean finished his coffee quickly despite that, setting it down loudly on the counter and then turning on the shower. Dean stopped in front of the mirror, examining his fast fading injuries from the leprechaun and wearily scrubbed his face.

Being able to tell when Sam was lying was difficult enough when he had his soul, but without his soul, it was near impossible for Dean to tell when Sam was lying. That's why Dean is so uncertain now, whether or not to believe his bro—Sam when he says he does want his soul back. After all, this Sam keeps insisting how much 'better' or 'smarter' he is now than old Soul-Sam. Dean stripped off his clothes and stepped into the shower, at least thankful to have a hot shower this Thanksgiving.

When Dean finished with his shower, Sam was still at the computer. Upon seeing Dean, Sam turned his laptop around and pointed at the screen. "Looks like a Thelgeth. Giant hairy creature with no head and a giant mouth where the neck should be. Only one eyewitness left alive who had an arm taken off by the thing, but six others dead. According to my research, silver bullets should slow it down, but torching it is the only way to kill it."

Dean raised an eyebrow, pulling out a clean shirt. "A what?"

Sam visibly resisted rolling his eyes. "A Thelgeth. A demonic creature from Navajo lore that is said to be born from a virgin woman who...well basically masturbates."

"What?" Dean shot Sam a confused look before pulling on his shirt. "Are you fuc—serious? A woman that masturbates? This is the 21st century—practically every woman masturbates!"

Sam shrugged, fighting back a smirk before pointing to the laptop. "That's basically what it says."

Dean walked over to the laptop and squinted down at the screen. "Dude, it says 'a virgin woman who engages in unnatural acts'. So I don't know, maybe sexes up a vampire or some shit like that—not who masturbates!"

"Whatever." Sam reached down under the table and pulled out a blowtorch. "I've got the torch, so lets burn this thing."

Dean blinked. "Do you ever stop thinking about hunting?"

Sam looked sideways, again visibly hiding an eye roll. "Of course. I'm thinking about Crowley's deal, finding Alphas, and getting my soul back. But," Sam continued as he stood up. "We have no leads on an Alpha, Cas hasn't gotten back to us with anything useful—that arse—and Crowley isn't around to bark orders like a British—well I guess Scottish—fucker, so hunting!" Sam brushed pass Dean who released a heavy, silent sigh before turning to Sam.

"Yeah well...just...just stop being so happy about it!"

Sam turned to Dean and blinked. "I'm not happy about it—do I look happy about it—I'm not happy about it. I'm just...hunting. And if we figure out a way to get my soul back that doesn't involve leprechauns lying, then we'll go and do that. Come on Dean, people are dying—let's go."

Dean opened his mouth and then closed it in defeat. This thing, that was wearing his brother and had his brother's memories and [some of] his mannerisms, but was not his brother, was really wearing Dean down. In fact, this thing seemed to feel Dean was more of a nuisance than anything, after all, it did admit that it did not care for Dean.

Dean turned to look at the terrifying artistic rendition of the Thelgeth and sighed. "Fine, let's just kill this damn thing before it can kill anyone else."

Sam loaded a gun and smirked. "I've got the blowtorch."

Dean probably should have paid a bit more attention to the information about the Thelgeth than just a precursory glance at its picture. Because some things Dean did not realise was that, 1) this thing was monstrously huge at eight feet tall, 2) it had razor sharp claws and was very accurate in using them, and 3) silver bullets only may possibly work. So once again, for what may be the last time in Dean's life, Dean's chest had been ripped open and partially used as a chew toy, again.

Sam had yelled for Dean after he was injured and fired a stream of fire at the Thelgeth to get it away from Dean. The Thelgeth roared in anger as it was pushed back by the flames and it angrily clawed at the ground in front of it. Dean vaguely realised it was so that the dirt could put out the flames in front of it. "Sam..."

Sam's face appeared immediately over Dean's, pulled down into an obligatory frown that may have shown some concern. But Sam didn't do anything about his injuries. Instead, Sam just gave Dean's abdomen a cursory glance before holding up the blowtorch and firing again as the Thelgeth had managed to put out the flames. This time, the Thelgeth was caught in some of the flames and it roared in anger before turning and running away.

Sam bent his head down to Dean's, ignoring Dean's injury, and hissed, "You're not going to survive with those injuries—pray to Cas. Maybe he'll come." With that, Sam quickly got to his feet and gave chase to the flaming Thelgeth.

Dean coughed up blood as he gave tried to snort. But that was too painful and everything was getting too cold, just like three years ago when he was torn up by Lilith's Hell Hounds. Dean closed his eyes wearily, wanting to cry for his lost brother, to cry for his own imminent demise, but didn't. This was an all too familiar repeating story, and Dean could only vaguely wonder through his pain, whether or not he'll go to Heaven this time and whether or not Joshua would be there to resurrect him again. Or maybe Castiel would resurrect him?

Castiel...Dean clenched his fists, clutching the dead leaves in his fists. Dean did wonder if he would come if he prayed. It was Thanksgiving after all. But angels don't celebrate Thanksgiving, and at one time, Dean was thankful to Castiel for pulling him out of Hell. Dean supposed he still does have to be thankful to Castiel, despite the fact that he often wonders if he even deserved to be saved. Dean closed his eyes, deciding if Castiel does come this time, then he will be thankful to the little nerd angel and vowed not to wonder if he deserves to be saved again. Right now, Dean just wants to live long enough to save his baby brother.

Struggling to get enough air into his blood-filled lungs, Dean rasped, "Cas..." and coughed up blood, the rest of his prayer dying before it even began. Dean struggled to open his eyes and then smiled weakly as he heard the familiar fluttering of wings. Finally opening his eyes, Dean's eyes met Castiel's concerned blue ones.

"Why do you always get yourself into such situations?" asked Castiel quietly as he pressed two fingers to Dean's forehead, instantly healing him of all of his injuries. "I'm not your personal healer Dean."

Dean gasped and sat up quickly, nearly head butting Castiel in the process—not that it would actually hurt him. Dean looked to the direction Sam ran to and moved to stand up and give chase.

"Dean."

Dean paused, turning to Casitel, who had a visible frown on his face. Dean blinked and gave Castiel a quick smile. "Sorry Cas, but I've got to go—"

Castiel grabbed a hold of Dean's arm. "Sam will be fine." Castiel looked in the direction where Sam ran after the Thelgeth. "As we speak, he is torching the Thelgeth. Sam is unharmed."

Dean, despite knowing that Sam wasn't really his Sammy, felt tension ease out of him knowing Sam was unharmed.

"We need to talk."

"Wha—woah!" Dean clenched his eyes shut as wind rushed past him and the familiar feeling of vertigo indicated his transport. A second later, Dean felt himself bounce onto a bed with Castiel's hand clenched around his arm. "The hell, Cas?"

Castiel released Dean's arm and stood up tall over Dean, a familiar angry/annoyed expression on his face. "Dean. I must insist you stop treating me as if I'm your...your dog. I am an angel—I am at war—I don't have the time nor liberty to come to you when you call for me—yes!" continued Castiel when Dean opened his mouth to interrupt. "Your life was in danger, so I would have come and I did come. But you can't even give me a proper 'thank you', despite you promising yourself you would if I saved you this time—?"

"Wait—you heard me?" Dean pushed himself up off the bed and stood up into Castiel's personal space.

"You prayed to me, so yes, I heard you."

"Well I wasn't praying then—" Dean cut himself off as Castiel visibly frowned. "Look, if it's a thanks you want Cas, you have it. So thanks—"

Castiel growled lowly and grabbed Dean by his arms and slammed him into the wall by the side of the bed, knocking the wind out him. Castiel moved up into Dean's personal space, an action that was familiar to both Dean and Castiel from over a year before. "I think you've forgotten exactly what I am. Yes, I am your friend, and yes, we do share a profound bond. But I am an angel. I have been unendingly patient with your attitude as you have been worried about Sam. But let me tell you Dean, I am worried about Sam too. You and Sam are quite possibly the only two beings that cared about me during the Apocalypse and now Sam has no soul and is incapable of caring for anyone. So Dean, do you care about me as much as I care about you? Or am I just something useful to you? Answer me Dean Winchester!"

Dean blinked, taken aback at Castiel's anger. It's true, Dean thought, he has been snappish with Castiel lately. Upon reflection, if Dean had acted as much of an arse towards Castiel as he had in the past, Castiel would have probably threatened to throw him back into Hell as he had nearly three years ago one night in Bobby's darkened kitchen. Dean had known Castiel for nearly three years now, and to imagine hunting without knowing his angelic assistance, if needed, was available, was near inconceivable to Dean. It wasn't as if Dean had become reliant on Castiel and his angelic powers—hell last year when Castiel was losing his powers, Dean couldn't really rely on Castiel's powers to be all unstoppable, as Famine had demonstrated. No, it was just that Dean had become familiar and accustomed to having Castiel around. Not so much for his powers, but just his presence and knowing he had Dean's back. Castiel was a partner, a friend, and someone whom he shared a 'profound' bond with, as Castiel so eloquently put it. What that profound bound was...well Dean wasn't sure he was ready to address that yet...

But Dean was thankful to Castiel. He truly was, despite being an arse to him lately. He was thankful that Casitel once again saved his arse, was there to support him when he realised Sam wasn't Sam anymore, and yes, Dean was even thankful that Castiel pulled him from Hell. It was, despite everything that happened, a second chance, a chance to right his wrongs in Hell, and a chance to live. This Thanksgiving, thought Dean, he was thankful to have met Castiel.

Dean moved to pull his arms from where Castiel had him pinned to the wall and Castiel released his arms, a frown still visible on his face. Dean briefly wondered how much alcohol he would have to consume after what he was about to do to forget about it, before stepping into Castiel's space and wrapping both arms around Castiel and pulling the angel in for a kiss. Dean could physically feel Castiel tense up under his arms and Castiel's mouth was frozen in a surprised 'oh'.

Dean pulled back and closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against Castiel's. "Dude, you're making me doubt my prowess in bed."

Dean could physically feel Castiel frown. "We're not in bed."

Dean opened his eyes briefly to meet Castiel's fond blue eyes before closing them again and moving in to kiss Castiel again. This time, Castiel responded timidly and awkwardly placed his arms around Dean's back, as he had for that Cupid over a year ago. Dean pulled them both sideways, feeling Castiel relax enough so that he could be plied onto the bed.

Dean moved to lean over Castiel and kissed him again, attempting to coax the timid and virginal angel into responding. Castiel had let his arms drop onto the bed and had not moved to wrap them around Dean again. Dean pulled back after a minute of just kissing Castiel to look him in the eye.

"I am thankful to have met you, and yeah, I do care about you Cas. I really do, even though I'm an arse most of the time—all of the time. You're my friend."

"I don't believe," began Castiel with a small hint of a frown on his features. "Friends generally do these kinds of things."

Dean shrugged before leaning in to kiss Castiel's eye lid gently. "Friends with benefits then. For the time being anyway."

Castiel turned his head to the side to allow Dean to continue kissing down his face. "I'm not familiar with what you mean by 'benefits'. You mean friends that have sex with each other?"

Dean pressed a tender kiss to Castiel's neck above the collar of his shirt. "I guess. But we really don't have to have sex." Dean pulled back and looked down at Castiel, a small wry smile on his face.

Castiel closed his eyes briefly before reaching upwards and wrapping both arms around Dean's neck, pulling his head down to rest against Castiel's shoulder. "It's fine. Do what you want Dean."

Dean snorted. "I just said we're friends. We're not—I'm not just using you Cas."

"I know." Castiel turned to press his own kiss to Dean's eyelid. "I can read your feelings. Dean..."

Dean felt a smile tug on his lips. "Stop reading my mind you dick."

"I believe it is your dick that is aroused and pressed against my leg currently."

Dean felt himself flush and shifted his body so that his arousal was not pressed against Castiel anymore. "Sorry—"

"I said you can do what you want."

Dean pulled back and looked down to meet Castiel's steady gaze. Finally, Dean nodded. "All right." Hesitantly, Dean reached down and palmed Castiel's groin, not feeling anything of significance. Determined to change that, Dean expertly started to move his palm over Castiel's groin, only to be stopped by Castiel.

"It's fine, Dean." Castiel released Dean's wrist and gently cupped Dean's arousal, who then bucked into Castiel's palm. "Allow me," whispered Castiel into Dean's ear.

"Shit..." muttered Dean as he felt heat and pleasure start building in his lower abdomen as Castiel's warm hand gently caressed his arousal. "Damn it Cas...that's good..."

Dean couldn't stop himself from meeting Castiel's caress as he pressed his face into Castiel's clothed shoulder to suppress his moan. Dean wasn't sure if it was because he and Lisa didn't have the same chemistry as they had all those years ago or what, but all of the sex he had last year didn't feel half as good as how Castiel's hand feels through the material of his trousers.

"Cas..." Dean felt Castiel's arms encircle him tightly as he felt the heat crescendo into his climax of heat and pure pleasure. Dean pressed his face into Castiel's neck, breathing rapidly as he buckled against Castiel's palm. Dean could vaguely feel Castiel stroking him as he coaxed him down from his high gently.

After several minutes when Dean finally felt he could be coherent again, Dean weakly pushed himself up from where he had flopped down on Castiel and looked down at the angel with a smile. Castiel too gave Dean a smile before pressing two fingers to Dean's forehead, removing the stickiness in his trousers, in which Dean was extremely grateful. Castiel left his fingers on Dean's forehead before moving to cup Dean's face.

"I can make you forget Dean."

"What?" asked Dean, confused.

"You already drink far too much alcohol, and I feel I'm encouraging you."

Dean reached up and clasped Castiel's hand on his face. "You mean when I thought—you know what. Never mind that, I don't want to forget. And stay out of my head!"

Castiel closed his eyes briefly. "I don't need to read your thoughts to know how you think Dean. You forget, we have quite a profound—"

"—bond, I know." Dean leaned his head back down on Castiel's shoulder. "Which is also how I know you're going to run off right about now to head back to Heaven."

"I'm sorry," muttered Castiel into Dean's temple. "But I will keep a look out for any way to get Sam's soul back."

Dean pulled back once more to kiss Castiel, who reciprocated a bit more skilfully this time. "Thanks Cas," whispered Dean into the kiss. The next moment, Dean fell onto the empty bed as Castiel disappeared with the fluttering of wings.

Dean rolled onto his back and flopped out on his bed, wondering what the hell is going on between Castiel and him. Clutching his head, Dean resisted the urge to go to the refrigerator to fetch a beer and instead closed his eyes, wondering when Sam will get back to the motel room or if Sam was even trying to look for Dean at all in the woods where the Thelgeth was. The sound of the fluttering of wings caused Dean to snap his eyes open again and he sat up quickly, wondering if Castiel had returned.

But Casitel had not returned. Instead, he had left a familiar box on the kitchenette table with a small card atop of it. Dean got off the bed and walked over to the box, smiling when he saw Castiel's familiar neat script wishing him a Happy Thanksgiving. Inside the box, Dean confirmed what his nose had already told him; a warm, freshly baked apple pie from the same bakery in New York City.

Dean pulled out a chair and sat down by the pie and began eating it while it was still fresh. It wasn't turkey, nor stuffing, nor mash potatoes, nor cranberry sauce, but Dean could live with this apple pie for Thanksgiving for the rest of his life. The sound of the Impala pulling into a parking space outside of the motel confirmed to Dean that Sam was indeed fine after fighting the Thelgeth. Despite himself, Dean felt relieved by that.

But mostly, on this Thanksgiving, Dean was just thankful Castiel was his friend and by his side on this painful quest for Sam's soul.

Spontaneous one-shots, how much I hate you. This one was a result of knowing there is no Supernatural this week, probably due to Thanksgiving in the U.S. So, I thought, Thanksgiving one-shot! in anticipation for next week's episode. And let me say, that episode does look exciting! Anyway, a couple of notes for this one-shot.

First, I don't know how to write soulless Sam. Soulless Sam is hard since he's so unpredictable, so hopefully, I got some of the characterisation of Sam correct. Second, season 6 Castiel is my favourite Castiel. He's a mix of season 4 and season 5 Castiel, which equals a semi-angsty Cas, whom I think needs a big hug from Dean. Just saying.

Again, I apologise if I screwed up Thanksgiving since I'm not too familiar with the holiday aside from the fact that there's turkey and it's on the last Thursday of November. Feel free to correct me if I got something wrong.

Mike and Kate are the names of the couple whom John stayed with shortly after Mary died, according to John's journal. It gives a vague timeline in his journal, which is where I based this story's pre-series bit from.

Also a Thelgeth is basically a headless, hairy, man eater that is born of a virgin committing an 'unnatural act', which is vague at best. I picked that creature out from my encyclopedia of supernatural and magical creatures (which is right beside my Human Anatomy and Physiology text) basically because it's weird and I've never heard of it before. And considering the whole theme of Alpha's and odd, never before seen creatures of Season 6, I felt this creature was appropriate.

-Sailor Moonac