Snow dusts the road when they pull in. The bunker hums like it always does—cold, metallic, familiar—but something is different this time.

Dean drags in a box of decorations like it personally offended him. “Alright. Christmas. We’re doin’ it. No apocalypse. No omens. Just… vibes.”

Sam raises an eyebrow. “You said that last year.”

“Yeah, well, I mean it harder this time.”

Jack hovers nearby, holding a string of lights like it might explode. “Are these… holy?”

Castiel studies them solemnly. “No. But they are… festive.”

Gabriel appears out of nowhere wearing an aggressively ugly sweater. “Did someone say festive?” Rowena follows, heels clicking, eyes lighting up at the decorations. “Oh, I refuse to let you boys ruin Christmas.”

Bobby’s voice crackles over the phone. “You burn down the bunker, I’m hauntin’ all of you.”

They decorate badly. Dean insists the angel figurine goes on top of the tree “because Cas has seniority.” Castiel does not understand sarcasm and stands very still while they try to measure him against the tree height.

Jack gasps when the lights turn on.

“They’re beautiful,” he whispers.

Later, they sit around mismatched plates of food. Dean hands Jack a present.

Jack opens it carefully. Inside: a hoodie, too big, soft. “For when it’s cold,” Dean says, gruff.

Jack hugs it to his chest like it’s sacred.

Castiel watches, something warm and aching settling in his chest.

For one night, Heaven stays quiet.