Destiel One-Shots

(AO3) Calling In A Flavour

   Dean had been gone for roughly two weeks when Cas started baking. Sam awoke one morning to the smell of burnt apple pie wafting through the bunker. He stumbled into the kitchen, eyes still bleary with sleep, to find Cas hunched over the open oven door and scowling ferociously are the offending pie shaped pastry. The thing was blackened to a crisp and still emitting curls of smoke. Sam coughed a few times and waved a hand in front of his face to ward off the worst of it. Cas stood up straight at the noise and turned to meet Sam's eyes. Both stayed silent as they looked each other over. Sam made no comment, and Cas made no attempt to explain. Instead, he turned back to the pie and pulled it out, bland oven mitts pulled over his hands, and walked the thing over to the trash. Without another glance at Sam, Cas moved back to the counter and pulled off the oven mitts before pulling the flour back to him and starting the whole process over. Thus began Cas' new habit.

   For weeks afterward, the bunker was filled with the sweet smells of baking. Every day was a slightly different smell as Cas attempted different flavours. The other hunters from Apocalypse World would often shoot each other questioning looks. They'd look to Sam for answers, but he just gave tight lipped smiles in return. Cas was hurting. This was his way of trying to work through it.

   Sam left the matter untouched until Mary put her foot down. She, as with everyone else, loved the idea of fresh baked desserts after a hunt, but the place was starting to get a little overrun with pies, and the ingredients were starting to get rather expensive.

   "Sam, I know you don't want to, but you have to talk to him." Mary sighs softly, looking over her glass of bourbon at her youngest son. Sam merely sighs, scrubbing a hand down his face.

   "I know." He replies wearily. "Honestly, I do. I just don't know where to start or what to say. You don't know Cas like I do, Mom. I've never seen him this way before. I don't even know where to start." Mary lays a reassuring hand on Sam's arm, offering up a small smile. Sam smiles sadly back.

   "You're worried about him. Aren't you?" She asks. Sam gets a bitter taste in his mouth as his stomach curls in concern. He nods silently. "Then start there." She says. "Castiel needs his friends right now. He needs you, just as much as you need him."

   Sam huffs out a choked laugh. "How am I supposed to help him when I can't even help myself?" He asks. They'd gotten no leads on Michael. No hits on Dean, whatsoever. How was he supposed to reassure Cas that they would get Dean back when he was loosing faith himself? Not that he ever admitted that out loud.

   "Don't give up, Sam." Mary urges, giving Sam's arm a reassuring squeeze. "We'll get Dean back." After that, Mary got to her feet, drained her glass, and left to go help the others on whatever current hunts they were working on. Sam lets out an exhausted breath and leans back in his chair, eyes closed.

   He doesn't want to give up. For Dean's sake, he doesn't want to give up. There's nothing in the world, Hell the whole universe, that Sam wouldn't do for his brother. They've been through so much together, and to have it all ripped apart by one word. Guilt courses through him again as he thinks over why Dean said yes in the first place. Dean did it to save him. To save his family. Yes, he managed to ice Lucifer first, but the win paled in comparison to the aftermath left behind in Michael's wake.

   "Sam?" Sam jumps in his chair, so lost in thought that he didn't hear Cas approach. "Are you alright?" He asks, looking over Sam's haggard face in concern. Sam gives him a wilted smile in return.

   "Yeah. I'm okay, Cas. Just tired, you know? Organizing this many people is a lot of work." He huffs out another humourless laugh. Castiel is looking at him, rightfully unconvinced that the younger Winchester is okay.