Supernatural One-Shots

Mistletoe

"Sam."

"Yes, Dean?" Sam said sweetly as he turned away from the excessively large Christmas tree to face Dean, a bauble in his hand. A Santa hat sat crookedly on his floppy brown hair.

"Why is there mistletoe everywhere?" Dean asked calmly.

"Is there?" Sam replied with a slightly confused tone, cocking his head to the side. "Hmm. That's strange. Of course, it is our duty to uphold tradition in light of any situations that may arise. Better be careful you don't get caught under a branch with, say, any angels currently staying with us. Might lead to one of the aforementioned situations."

He winked and resumed his decorating of the tree. Dean glared at the back of his brother's head. He calmed himself by resolving to tear down all the mistletoe that night.

But by the next morning, it had all returned in larger quantities than before.

Over the next few days, Dean attempted to rid the bunker of every clump of mistletoe that he could find, but it was in vain. Sam was successfully combatting Dean's attempts using methods that were unknown to Dean, stealthily replacing what Dean had disposed of and then some.

One morning Dean was hard at work eradicating the infestation in one of the hallways. Without warning, Cas appeared behind him.

"Good morning Dean," Cas said, peering over Dean's shoulder.

"Hi Cas," Dean greeted vaguely, keeping his eyes on his work.

"Dean, why are you currently burning a branch of Phoradendron leucarpum?"

"If you mean 'mistletoe'," Dean answered, looking around at Cas as he held a lighter to a burning stalk. "It's because Sam has spread it around everywhere. Freaking everywhere."

"I've noticed," Cas assured, looking around the hallway and creasing his brow. "I'm aware that I'm not a trustworthy judge of normal human behaviour, but even I suspect that hanging such large amounts of mistletoe from the ceiling is abnormal. What is the purpose of it?"

"I don't know, Cas," Dean sighed, turning his eyes back to the flames, which were lazily licking up the leaves. "Sam's a freak."

"Has it got something to do with the Western tradition of kissing under it at Christmas?" Cas inquired unexpectedly.

Dean burned his hand on the dying embers.

"Dammit!" Dean gasped, dropping the remains of the stalk.

"Dean, are you okay?" Cas prompted in surprise, stepping forward to examine the burn on Dean's right ring finger.

"I'm fine," Dean insisted through gritted teeth. "Son of a bitch. It's fine."

No you're not, Cas automatically wanted to argue. But he held his tongue as he held Dean's hand for a moment and healed the finger. He let it go and Dean inspected the hand with quiet awe.

"Oh," Dean said. "Uh, thanks, man."

"No problem," Cas smiled. He was about to step back when he noticed Dean looking up at the ceiling.

"Damn."

Cas looked up too.

An innocent clump of small green leaves, with waxy white berries, hung above them.

"Cas, we don't have to," Dean insisted quickly. "It's just some stupid tradition. It doesn't mean anything."

Cas felt a painful sensation swoop through his vessel's chest, leaving him feeling hollow and slightly winded. He felt a strangely immense amount of hurt.