The Year of Redemption

Chapter 37: Hold Me

Castiel stayed with Dean the entire night. He wanted the hunter to have at least one good night's rest to make up for the past few days. He knew Dean was hiding a lot. It was still just a few months after he had lost Sammy, and Cas knew that losing his brother was something Dean would never get over, no matter how much time passed. It was a kind of pain that would constantly burn inside of the hunter, and nothing in the world could relieve it completely.

Dean was putting on a good show, though. He had donned his facade of strength and apathy, ignoring the pain – or at least not outwardly expressing it. Cas may not know all that much about emotions, but he knew Dean, and he could tell when the hunter was burying something deep beneath the surface.

The angel moved to the kitchen just after dawn so Dean wouldn't freak out when he woke up and saw Cas sitting beside the bed. Castiel had also picked up on some of these idiosyncrasies of humans – like they typically don't enjoy being watched or surprised, and they're usually not the brightest balls of sunshine in the mornings.

Surprisingly, though, Dean strode into the kitchen about an hour later, smiling and humming to himself cheerfully. "Morning!" he greeted Cas on his way to the refrigerator.

"Good morning," Cas replied. "You look refreshed."

Dean grabbed a carton of eggs out of the refrigerator and a gallon of orange juice that he'd bought at the store. "Great night's sleep, food in the fridge, monsters to hunt, life is good, Cas, life is good."

Cas didn't know whether to be happy or concerned about Dean's sudden change in attitude. This was another side of him that Cas hardly ever saw. "What are you making?" he asked as Dean found a frying pan and a spatula and went back to the refrigerator for the tub of butter.

"Eggs," Dean replied. "You ever cook before?"

Castiel thought for a moment. "Does roasting lamias, wendigos, and rugarus count?"

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Did you eat them afterwards?"

"I have no need for sustenance."

"Then no," Dean responded. "Come here." He waved Cas over to where he was standing in front of the stove. He melted butter in the pan, then cracked an egg into it. He grabbed another egg and held it out to Cas. "Give it a shot."

Cas glanced at him, unsure, but took the egg. He tapped it lightly on the side of the pan and nothing happened. "Harder," Dean instructed. Cas slammed the egg onto the side of the pan, and it split open, almost in an explosion of egg guts. The yolk, half of the egg whites, and half of the shell fell into the pan, while the other parts splattered onto Castiel's hand or slid off the side of the pan onto the stovetop.

Cas froze. Dean grimaced, but quickly recovered, fishing the shell out of the pan and placing another egg in Castiel's hand. "Try again. This time, refrain from using your freakish superhuman angel strength on the egg, ok?"

Cas nodded, weighing the egg in his hand. He tapped it once on the edge of the pan, then lifted it again, glanced at Dean one more time for reassurance, and hit it against the pan with significantly less force than last time. The shell cracked, and the insides started oozing out. Cas held the egg just above the pan, unsure what to do next. Dean shook his head and put his hands over Castiel's using his thumbs to open the egg shell and let the whites and the yolk fall into the pan. "You don't use the shell?" Cas asked, inspecting the cracked egg shell in his hand.

"Typically, no," Dean replied, plucking it out of his fingers and tossing it into the trash can.

"That seems like a waste," the angel commented.

"Welcome to the 21st century," Dean shot back, grabbing a spatula to stir the eggs with. "We breed chickens to eat their fetal young for breakfast and then McDonalds kills them to make into nuggets, and we don't even use the eggshells."