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“We are not going to say a blessing?”
Four pairs of eyes landed on Castiel. Charlie, who had a generous mouthful of sweet potatoes halfway to her lips, dropped her fork back to her plate, wincing as it clattered against the glass.
“Uh. Actually, my family is atheist—” Kevin began, but his mouth went dry as Cas’s stare locked on him like a laser. “—But due to recent events I guess new traditions aren’t a bad idea,” he added in one breath.
“Cas, c'mon, the bird’s getting cold!” Dean complained.
Sam mentally called a CODE RED as Castiel began making that flared-nostril, puffy-cheeked look he always wore when Dean teased his temper. Time for intervening measures.
“Sure, Cas. Sounds great,“ the younger Winchester announced. Everyone took the cue — even Dean, though he added an eye roll — and they clasped their hands together.
Castiel, placated, nodded slightly before doing the same.
"Thank you, Sam.”
His eyes closed, and with perfect indifference to the rich smells of roasted turkey, sweet cinnamon rolls, golden casseroles and savory gravy torturing the other four, he began in that slow, measured way of his.
“Our Father in Heaven…”
“Since when?” Dean snorted. He jumped a second later as Sam’s foot connected with his shin from across the table.
“We give thanks for the pleasure of gathering here for this occasion.”
Kevin’s stomach growled, not sounding pleased in the slightest.
“We give thanks for this food, prepared by loving hands.”
The stare-off of the millennium was happening on the Winchesters’ end of the table. Not a word was spoken between the two, but Charlie could just hear the inner dialogue:
Bitch, you touch that turkey leg, and you’re dead. I called it.
First come, first served, jerk.
“We give thanks for life, and the freedom to enjoy it all.”
Charlie thought of the many near escapes she had over the past year. Meanwhile, Kevin’s mind played memories of the cramped, sunless quarters of Garth’s boat. The both of them couldn’t help smiling softly, knowing what had been survived.
“We thank you for the health and strength you’ve given us to carry on.”
Year after year, Sam was finding it harder to believe in miracles, but there was no denying the odds they had all faced and defied.
“And for the friends and loved ones we share this table with.”
Castiel’s eyes opened as the prayer came to a close, and to his shock, it was Dean who was the first to answer that final line with:
“Amen.”
The angel’s lips pursed, awaiting a splash of sarcasm or another eye roll to follow, but Dean’s face showed neither. Something in the hunter’s eyes, the line of his jaw, was uncharacteristically unguarded.
Cas had said the prayer out of a sense of duty as much as love, but seeing Dean like that, for the first time he truly felt thankful.
“Amen,” he answered, smiling proudly at the older Winchester.
“Amen,” came the chorus from around the table.
And all was peaceful and warm among the patchwork family, sitting for their first patchwork holiday.
At least until Sam tried to grab the last cinnamon roll.