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The eight-year-old looked sadly out of the dirty window. Dark clouds could be seen in the sky, which kept hiding the sun behind them. Snow fell from the sky and it was Christmas. White Christmas, then, but this did not interest the boy. This year he would spend Christmas alone, without any family. His father was out hunting, just like every other Christmas. Dean was used to this, however, and it didn't really bother him, because he still had his little brother. But not this time. Sam, his little brother, was with Bobby over the holidays. However, he himself was alone in a motel room, looking out at the sky. Dean didn't understand why he was alone and not like his brother with Bobby. Bobby was just like her father John, a hunter. The two brothers have often stayed with the grumpy man when their father didn't leave them alone in the motel. It had always been like that and the eight-year-old had gotten used to it. But now it's Christmas and Dean is all alone. No one was with him and there was no one he could have gone to. He didn't know anyone in this town. Why was he left alone? It was Christmas after all, a celebration that should be spent with the family and not alone. Would it be too much to ask to have a normal life for at least one day? Because his was definitely not normal. He knew what was really lurking out there and that scared the boy. However, he would never admit it or show it. What good would that do him? Nothing, that's how it was. Besides, he had to be there for Sam. He had to be strong for his little brother, take care of him. But that wasn't necessary at the time. Sam was with Bobby and therefore in good hands. Only Dean was alone and didn't have anyone. Tears ran down the eight-year-old's cheeks and dripped onto the window sill. The salt barrier that was on top of it was slowly dissolving. However, the boy didn't care, should come what wanted. If they left him alone, the others probably didn't care if something happened to him. All he wishes is to spend a day with his family in peace and quiet. To forget what was out there for once and celebrate Christmas together. After all, this was the festival of contemplation that was celebrated with the family. Perhaps this was the reason why he was left alone. They would never even have a quiet day, Dean was aware of that. They knew too well what lurked out there. More and more tears ran down his cheeks and dripped onto the windowsill. He slowly looked away from the window and turned around. "I hope you're having fun, Sammy. Then at least one of us has a Merry Christmas," he whispered softly, finally turning away from the window and wiping the tears from his face. However, only to take the salt and renew the destroyed salt barrier. He took one last look out the window before turning his back on it. Tears ran down Dean's cheeks again and this time dripped onto the dusty floor. "Merry Christmas Sammy," he murmured, walking away from the window. He really hoped that his little brother had a nice Christmas, even if he wasn't there himself. Maybe they just didn't want him there? Now if he had been left alone on purpose, but why? What justified leaving him here alone? Nothing. There was no reason for that. Dean was eight years old and spent Christmas alone. This was going to be the most worst Christmas ever!
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In the middle of the night, Dean was woken up by a noise. The eight-year-old slowly opened his eyes and needed a while before he got used to the darkness in the room. He was sure that if he turned around he would see who was in the room. But did he really want this? Something else could have gotten in. Although, he did have the salt barrier. He was aware that this didn't prevent everything from entering the room, but at least some things. So what had come into the room? Dean slowly turned to the other side and switched on the lamp, which was on the small bedside table next to the bed. The light from the lamp lit up the room and made the boy see a stranger in the room. But the eight-year-old didn't pay any attention to this. It was also forgotten for a moment that the man had broken into the room. Dean's attention was focused on a small, decorated Christmas tree about five meter from the bed. The boy almost jumped out of bed and ran toward the tree. Shortly before this he stopped and slowly stretched out his hand, afraid he could only imagine it all. Dean breathed a sigh of relief when he felt the needles of the tree on his fingers. He had his own Christmas tree and it was decorated too! The strange man who was standing behind Dean came back to the boy's memory when he began to speak. "Do you like it kid?" he asked. The eight-year-old turned around abruptly and looked at the man with wide eyes. A touch of fear flashed in his eyes and he took a step back without touching or even knocking over the beautiful tree. "Who are you and what do you want from me?" he asked and couldn't help his voice to tremble in fear. This man could be anything and the fact that Dean was all alone didn't make the situation any better. The stranger could do whatever he wanted with him and the eight-year-old couldn't defend himself. Sure, he would try his best, but what should he do against a grown man? In addition, Dean could not even tell if the stranger is really just a human being. "Don't worry, I'm..." the man hesitated a moment before continuing, "Santa Claus." Again Dean took a step back and shook his head. "Dad says Santa Claus doesn't exist. Besides, you don't look like him" said the eight-year-old, eyeing the man in front of him. He had dark hair, a beard and was thin. Santa Claus, however, should have white hair and a round belly. The man in front of him was also wearing jeans, a white T-shirt and a green jacket. This definitely wasn't Santa Claus, apart from the fact that Santa Claus didn't exist anyway. The strange man laughed briefly and walked towards Dean, who automatically backed away and fear rose in him. "Please don't hurt me!" It was a desperate attempt by the boy, hoping he would get out of it in one piece. However, the alleged Santa Claus was not deterred and continued to approach the eight-year-old. He now had his back against the wall and could only wait for what was to come, whatever it was. When the man arrived in front of Dean, he crouched down and tousled the boy's hair once. "Well, maybe I'm not Santa Claus. But for you, Dean, I'm Santa Claus for once this year. Your very own," said the stranger, straightened up again and went back to the tree. Dean remained perplexed for a moment against the wall. How did the stranger know his name? And what did he mean by his words? Only when the man drew his attention to a gift that Dean hadn't noticed before did the boy slowly walk towards the tree. In fact, there was a gift, it was actually quite large. Probably as tall as Dean was when he was sitting. Curiously, he looked at the parquet floor and discovered a small piece of paper on it.
>>To Dean. From Chuck.<<
"Who's Chuck?" the eight-year-old asked and looked at the man, but he wasn't there anymore. Startled and surprised, Dean looked around and looked for the stranger man. He also checked the salt barrier, which was still intact. He found no trace of the stranger, only the present and the tree proved to the eight-year-old that someone was there. After a while of searching, Dean sat down next to his gift and looked at it. He wasn't sure if he should really open it. However, his curiosity drove him to do so. The boy carefully pulled on the ribbon that was tied around the gift. When it was open, he slowly grabbed the gift lid and lifted it even more slowly. To his amazement, two hands grabbed the lid and lifted it up. Startled, Dean backed away and stared at the contents of the gift. It was a boy about the same age as Dean himself, with black hair and blue eyes. "W-who are you?" the eight-year-old asked, his voice sounding anxious again. Who would blame him for that? In the gift from a stranger was a boy. Who wouldn't be scared? The strange boy eyed Dean for a moment before he spoke. "My name is Castiel. Are you Dean?" He nodded slightly to answer the other boy's question. Castiel climbed out of the box and sat down opposite the eight year old. This time it was Dean who eyed the other. For a child, he wore strange clothes. Black shoes, a white shirt, blue tie, dark suit pants, a dark suit jacket to match the pants, and a trench coat. "Who are you and how do you know my name?" asked Dean, whereupon Castiel tilted his head in confusion. "I told you my name is Castiel," explained the boy in the trench coat and then let his gaze wander around the room. A soft sigh escaped his lips before he looked at his counterpart again. He still had a hint of fear in his eyes, but that too slowly disappeared. Castiel was really no danger, at least not for Dean. The boy in the trench coat would never harm him, since it was his job to protect the eight-year-old. Dean shook his head and fixed Castiel with his gaze. "I didn't mean it like that. Why were you in my gift? I don't understand this at all..." The boy's voice was getting quieter and tears had formed in his eyes, which now ran down his cheeks and dripped onto the floor. In one fell swoop, Dean realized again that Castiel was his only company and this at Christmas. He had been left alone. The eight-year-old winced slightly when he noticed how the other boy hugged him and gently stroked his back. "I'm sorry that you're alone. And to answer your question, I'm your gift. That's why I was in it," Castiel explained, with a matter-of-factness in his voice that confused Dean. He didn't understand. Why should this boy be his gift. "Why should you be my present? Shouldn't you be with your family and celebrate Christmas?" He asked and pressed himself against Castiel. Although he found the whole thing strange, the eight-year-old was glad not to be alone. This whole thing might be confused, but Dean couldn't deny that he was comfortable. "I'm an angel of the Lord, we don't celebrate Christmas like you humans do." Surprised, Dean looked at the alleged angel. Was there such a thing as an angel at all? His father had never mentioned anything of the sort, but he hadn't really denied it either. Besides, there was so much else, why no angels? But why should he be given one as a gift? "But...but why are you my present?" The angel seemed to hesitate for a moment and thought about how best to explain it to the eight-year-old. Didn't come up with a good explanation though, after all there was no reason for it all. Castiel himself didn't even understand it exactly. God thought it should be like this. That it would cheer up Dean and that's why Castiel should do it. That's why God brought him to this motel room in a gift, along with a Christmas tree. It was to be a little Christmas miracle for the young Winchester. The boy should not spend Christmas alone. Although Castiel didn't understand why, there were so many people who were alone that evening and only the eight-year-old got such a surprise, but he didn't question the whole thing. God had already thought of something and the angel accepted that. He also had to admit that he was happy to meet his protégé. He was Dean's guardian angel and should take care of him. However, he still owed him an answer. "I don't know exactly, but what I do know is that I will spend Christmas with you. You don't have to be alone and you never will be. I'll be there if you need me. Even if you just need company. I promise you, Dean." Castiel's words made Dean smile. He trusted each of these words, but the eight-year-old couldn't say where this sudden and at the same time strong trust came from. It was just there and made him trust the angel blindly. "Thanks, Cas!", Dean whispered and wrapped his arms tightly around the angel. Maybe this Christmas wasn't so bad after all. Dean had apparently found a new friend and was no longer alone. And deep down, the eight-year-old knew he could rely on the angel and that he would always be there for him.
"Merry Christmas, Cas."
"Merry Christmas, Dean."