Chapter Text
“ Lord, I’m one,
Lord, I’m two,
Lord I’m three,
Lord, I’m four. ”
– 500 Miles from Peter, Paul & Mary
The bunker was quiet — it was still early in the morning — not a single soul occupying a room except for the hunters’ bedrooms.
Sam was inside his own, down the corridor, he was asleep, curled up in his bed under the blanket. The room was dark, let alone a single lamp that was illuminating the room with a warm lighting, like the fire that burned his childhood room when he was only six months old.
Dean was laying down on the soft mattress, the light turned on, his hand gripping tightly the only picture he had left of his mother, in the air. His cheeks were still a bit wet, the older Winchester had been crying silently for so long that his throat hurted and burned — he was sure that if he had to speak, his voice would be hoarse like a revenant.
Jack knew he didn’t need to sleep, well mostly. But he wanted to be considered as a human being and not as the “nephilim”, “satan’s spawn” or an “abomination” in Dean’s words. So he slept, like a baby, his hands gripping his blanket that was over his face, making it hidden.
Castiel was alone in the living room, sitting at the long table. The lamp next to him was on, lighting a bit of the room, making his features more visible. The angel was used to it — waiting for Dean, Sam and Jack to wake up and then he would make breakfast for them, specifically pancakes for Dean as the human kept saying that it was his favorite.
Castiel didn’t know how long it’s been until he noticed Dean, in the corner of his vision, standing in the doorway while actively trying to comb his hair with his fingers to make them look less messy.
“Good morning.” The angel’s monotone voice sounded quiet in the room, his voice only softened a bit when he saw the hunter’s tired face.
“Morning.” He mumbled, sitting across Castiel, “Have you made breakfast yet?”
“I… didn’t. Do you want me to make you pancakes?”
That made the older brother wake up completely, his smirk widened as he sat straight, “Absolutely.”
And that’s how they ended up in the small kitchen down the corridor, at roughly 8AM, with Castiel making pancakes just like how Dean liked them while the hunter complains about the hunt he completed with Sam from last night that “was a pain in the ass”.
Castiel listened, quietly, not interrupting him or letting words out of his mouth. He continued to prepare the food as he hummed, Dean thought it was like Karen, Bobby’s wife, who used to hum while cooking dinner.
The moment felt oddly intimate and domestic. Well, not until Sam came in the room, well rested and energetic unlike Dean, the younger Winchester greeted Castiel with a nod and sat in front his brother.
“So, did you manage to get a good night of sleep?”
“Yeah, slept like a baby.” Dean groaned, taking a sip of his beer, because, of course, he was the only one who could drown out alcohol at 8 in the morning.
Sam knew that his brother was lying, he knew him since the end of the time (literally) — he could see the redness in Dean’s eyes, the eyebags and how his eyes were puffier, like he’d been crying.
He stayed quiet, although, even if he would confront Dean, he’ll never open up. Neither of them did.
Castiel noticed the slight tension that was slowly settling and made his way to the table to put the plate of pancakes in front of the brothers.
“Huh—here you go.” Castiel stood awkwardly next to the table, watching Dean digging in the food first.
“Slow down, you fool, you’re gonna choke.” Sam chuckled, turning to the angel, “Thanks, Cas.”
Castiel nodded, a small smile forming on his lips. The tension became a comfortable silence with only the sound of the forks hitting the plates filling the room.