Heaven's Child ≫ SPN

13. Purgatory Counseling Inc.

It was my fourth day here at the Men of Letters Inn and my third time cooking.

Like everyone who does, the only reason I cook for my roommates is because I knew for a fact that they are incapable of slicing an apple correctly.

Sure, they were the guys that stopped the apocalypses, plural. But ask Dean to make you decent spaghetti. He'll say, "Comes in a can, right?"

As I placed the fifth plate of food down, and realized it was too much for four people.

Cooking sucks. It takes forever to prep and even longer to actually cook. But it nicely keeps my mind off of things. Some people paint. I make three different kinds of pasta.

"Food's ready," I called lazily.

I didn't have to do much else; they were  already drawn by the smell.

"Heh-he-he, yes." Dean appeared in a minute, chanting under his breath and greedily eyeing the dinner table. Sam and Kevin came in after that, Sam carrying his laptop and Kevin bearing nothing but a sleepy expression.

I sat between Kevin and Sam and Dean was on the other end of the table like I was.

"What are we having today, Chef?" Dean grinned.

"Um...Spaghetti and meatballs, pasta, pasta with Alfredo, caesar salad, mashed potato, hash browns, french fries, and chicken."

"...Why?"

I raised my eyebrow at Kevin, daring him to say something else that wasn't 'Thank you'.

Sam cleared his throat. "It looks great."

"I-It looks great." Kevin nodded.

"It is great," it came out muffled because Dean's mouth was already full.

I sighed, "Dean brought so much pasta and potato. I didn't know what else to do with it."

"It's fine, really," Sam smiled warmly.

"It's delicious." Dean nodded.

I tried to smile back at Sam but failed horribly. "It's no problem."

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

"No," I put a spoonful of mashed potato in my mouth, "You found a case?" I nodded at the laptop.

"Uh...yeah, yeah. We'd ask you to come but Cas said—"

"I know," I nodded. "He told me. Hell's Child is looking for me, bunker is the safest place on earth, blah blah blah."

I scratched my neck again uselessly. I felt Sullivan's energy like it was a hot, dense pressure against my collarbone and it irritated me more than it should.

"If Crowley knows," Kevin paused because he dropped a meatball on the floor and had to bend to pick it up, "that Eliza found you, wouldn't Alec be out for your intestines too?"

"Don't worry about us, Kev," Dean said pointedly, giving him a look, "just finish up that tablet so you could sleep. You're starting too look like something out of The Walking Dead."

"How's that going?" Sam asked, but I noticed him eyeing me scratching my neck out of the corner of his eye.

"Still haven't found anything about any Child yet," he mumbled. "I'm just saying. I'm sifting through the weirdest crap about the inferno and it's excruciating, and if I don't find anything in the end I'm lighting myself on fire."

"Make sure you do it outside," Dean didn't even look up from his plate. "Books."

"Yeah I know."