"What the hell?" Sam gasped as he hurried into the kitchen of the bunker. He could hardly see because of the smoke filling the air. It was hot in the kitchen, contrasting the icy air outdoors where Sam had been jogging. Coughing, he waved his hand in front of his face as he made his way to the cupboard, where he managed to find a half empty bag of flour. Sam dumped the bag over the flames which were crackling inside of the oven.
The smell of something like burnt hamburgers and alcohol wafted into his nose. There were a few shreds of what appeared to be burning paper drifting through the air. When the fire was out, Sam turned to glare at the trench coat wearing angel. He was just standing there looking like a kicked puppy.
"I'm sorry," Castiel said sheepishly. Sam peered into the oven where the crispy wreckage of whatever Cas had been attempting to make was still smoldering.
"What in God's name were you trying to make?"
"I'm not very practiced in cooking…"
"But what-"
"I was attempting to make a pie." Sam's gaze moved from the oven to the eternally bed headed angel standing before him.
"Cas…" Sometimes when Sam spoke to the angel he felt as if he were addressing a small child, which was stupid, considering everything that they had been through. This was the man who had rescued his big brother from Hell, and rebelled against Heaven for them, to help save the human race. He had led a garrison of his brothers and sisters against Metatron for a short time, until he chose to save Dean's life instead of keeping his army of angels. Castiel had even been God for a short time. Yet, he managed feats like this. "Why does the pie smell like, um," Sam sniffed the air. "Beef and beer?"
"I um…I was not sure what went in a pie. So I thought, well, Dean likes pie. So I should include various other things he likes in the pie I make." Sam caught a piece of smoking paper which was gliding past his face. He examined it, trying to make out what it was a picture of. Was that a Santa hat? The face in the photograph was mostly charred, but it looked familiar.
"So you included the shredded Christmas edition of Dean's Busty Asian Beauties magazine?" Sam asked.
"I'm sorry, Sam," Cas said. "I am still learning human traditions." Sam shook his head. His big brother would either get a kick out of this, or be entirely pissed. Sam hoped for Cas' sake that the older Winchester would be amused. Facing Dean's wraith was never fun, Sam knew from a lifetime as a little brother. It was sometimes impossible to tell how Dean would react to the things Castiel did.
"Hey guys what's-" Dean's voice called from the other room, stopping midsentence. "Hey what the hell is that smell?" he asked, sounding concerned.
"Cas made you a pie!" Sam called. Dean entered the room, and Cas looked at him with wide, deep blue, puppy eyes. Sam recalled Dean's dislike for dogs, although that was sort of past after Dean's time in the mindset of a dog. He hoped that would be enough to make the angel's puppy eyes work. After all, the poor guy had been trying to do something nice for Dean. Sam watched in apprehension as Dean made his way into the room. Dean's expression was unreadable as he reacted with one word.
"Oh."