The door had barely swung closed from Dean's - hasty but, Cas was sure, not at all nervous - retreat before Cas turned back to the cow. She was standing in the center of the room, softly nuzzling Charlie's hand before deciding she'd had enough of silence and moo'd. Loudly.

As if he'd ever had any doubt, Cas was now fully convinced that Samantha was the cutest animal - farmyard or otherwise - he'd ever seen… And, well, with such a distinction, how could he just treat her like some other animal, or keep talking like some random, uncaring, uncomprehending human? Of course he moo'd back at her.

And then she moo'd again, and then Charlie moo'd, and, by the time Dean finished his first trip and dumped a load of plastic bags on the floor outside Samantha's room, they'd firmly worked up something of a discourse.

Charlie was the one who finally remembered to ask, "What's the matter, girl?" (Cas much preferred mooing, but to each their own, he supposed.) She was also the one to translate Samantha's resulting moo into, "She needs food!"

Oh. Right. Food. He actually knew what to do about that!

It didn't take long for him to pick up her bowl and head to the kitchen, filling it with milk - was filling it to the brim enough, or should it actively be overflowing? It'd probably be fine, right? - and then setting it in front of her. Samantha set her head into the bowl and-

"Samantha!" He knew his tone was scolding, and he was minorly concerned he was being too harsh, but… Well… how else would she learn that you couldn't just blow milk out of your nose without enough force to cover a five-foot radius in organic, non-genetically modified whole milk. (Which had nothing to do with the fact that Dean had taken special effort to get that milk and everything to do with how rare and expensive it was.)

Charlie laughed, voice bright with merriment as the cow reluctantly settled down, lapping gently at the milk instead of showering it over the floor. A few seconds of silence passed before she broke it, a little less joviality in her tone though it held the same degree of fondness. "Dean mentioned you've been having issues with sound… the walls. We could make the walls more soundproof…"

"How?" Cas knew that John Winchester would have… issues with them having a cow - even if he didn't get why… she's a baby cow. And, judging by the sign he'd seen when he stol- liberated her, she was a miniature cow and would stay baby-sized - but he still didn't like the idea. "She eats cloth. It's her favorite snack." He grinned. She moo'd - Dean, I told you she can talk, she's agreeing - and he moo'd back. (He was getting good at it!)

Charlie shrugged. "I've got some ideas. We'll talk with Dean when he gets back. In the meantime…" Then, she shouted out a startled oh! and headed for the door, digging through one of the plastic bags with the relative delicacy of Samantha at her clumsiest. When she returned, she held… something.

It was definitely something, no doubt about that. It was, after all, by definition, a thing. Which made it some thing. The question, to Cas' mind, was just what kind of something it was.

And then he saw enough to make out the shape - a carrot of hay - and remembered that the whole point of Dean's trip to the pet store was to get chew toys. He reached out, taking the toy from her - it wasn't that he didn't trust Dean… but Dean had the tendency to rely on the Google (which was still not a good cow father) and, well… Cas didn't trust the Google. - and inspecting it carefully.

Cas had come to the conclusion not long ago that the only real way to inspect something involved a few specific steps.

The first was mandatory: looking. (The carrot was adorable, and a part of Cas instinctively registered the organic tag hanging from it, the avoidance of rope - which was only right… after all, trauma - and the other many details about how much thought had gone into the purchasing of said carrot. Why Dean insisted he didn't care about Samantha would forever be a mystery.)

The second: sniffing. (It smelled… like hay. That was unexpected… but not a bad sign. Hay was hay, and cows apparently eat hay. Except when they drink milk. Or eat curtains. Or scarves… okay, fine, Cas was still confused on what exactly cows consumed for food, which was why Dean was largely responsible for Samantha's diet.)

The third, and, perhaps, the most important: tasting. (It… tasted like hay. Equally unexpected. It also tasted oddly like paper, but that was probably because of Cas' weird taste buds… some things just tasted like molecules. It was weird… but the toy seemed fine.)

He shrugged. "Good enough for me."

Charlie shook her head. "Not yet, Cas."

"Why not?"

She reached out, plucking the carrot from his hand. "It still has paper on it."

"Oh. That's why it tasted… papery."

Charlie nodded, stepping over to Samantha and holding the carrot close to her face. The cow eagerly grabbed the toy, the sound of munching filling the room amid Charlie's amused, "You think?"

Cas didn't quite get why she was asking - he'd just said it, so obviously he thought that - but he still nodded. "I do."

"O-okay." She blinked and shook her head (clearly realizing that she should have already known the answer without having to ask again). "Well." The front door opened, screen door creaking open and shut - Charlie waited for the rustling sound of plastic to signal Dean dropping off more bags before continuing - before sounding again as he left. "How are things going otherwise?"

Samantha chose that minute to fumble with the toy and drop it, staring down at it confusedly. Cas smiled. "Good. I have a cow."

Charlie blinked. (Something must have been wrong, because that response was pretty self-explanatory… As if anyone ever really needed anything once they had a cow.) "I meant with you, Cas."

Something just wasn't clicking, so Cas tried again. "I have a cow."

"I know, but-" She sighed and shook her head. "Okay, Cas." Samantha moo'd, muffled by the carrot she'd finally figured out how to pick up. After a moment of deliberation, Cas decided she was monching. (Cronching was similar, but a little too different to be the same.) Charlie giggled. "She's adorable." Cas didn't miss the side glance she gave him before continuing, but he pretended he did - see, Dean, I can lie! - because he wasn't sure he'd like what would follow. "She takes after her fathers."

Okay, fine, maybe Cas wasn't good at lying normally… but there's a difference between lying and self-preservation, right? And he was very good at self-preservation. Which was why - while he did feel a minor twinge of panic followed by a slight blush and the urge to stutter uncontrollably because the words just weren't coming - he kept a straight face and didn't let on about any of it. "Yes, she's cute. We don't really know what we're doing– Well, I do, but I don't think Dean does… he keeps listening to the Google and it doesn't know what it's doing… He's trying, though."

He trailed off the sentence amid Charlie's laughter as the door opened again. Dean traversed the distance to the bedroom, dropping off the bags with a "Few more trips and I'm don-"

Cas could see the moment he took in the room - and the puddles of milk soaking through Dean's oh-so-neatly-applied newspaper and into the floor of what used to be his bedroom - by the way the bags dropped to the floor without regard, sentence dying into shocked silence and wide eyes.

Dean opened his mouth to speak. Then, he closed it, turned on his heel, and walked out of the room.

Cas frowned. "Whoops."

A minute passed, and Cas really should have known Charlie wouldn't let that lie. "So…" She smirked. "How are things with you and Dean?"

Cas - still very familiar with the art that was self-preservation - very pointedly did not talk about the fact that Dean was barely sleeping, forgot to eat without a (very persistent) reminder, and, despite insisting otherwise, was borderline germaphobic. Instead, he settled for,"Dean is good."

Charlie raised an eyebrow. "I asked about you and Dean, Cas." And? "Together." And? "Not separately."

"Oh." Well. He could say a lot, but… Well… Self-preservation was rather important, after all. "He's a great, uh… Room… person. To live with."

Charlie nodded. "And… since Sam has taken over his room…" She looked like she wanted him to say something, but… he'd decided that wasn't in his best interests and… well… didn't. She continued instead. "Where is he sleeping?"

Well, at least that question could be answered without issue. "With me."

She grinned, actually clapping her hands delightedly before turning back towards the cow. "I knew it!"

And, well… the smile on her face was making him think that his self-preservation tactics had failed him. "I mean… he usually sleeps on the floor."

She nodded, still grinning unfortunately smugly. "Usually…"

"Usually."

Her eyebrow raised again. "Usually?"

Cas nodded. "Usually." And… she wasn't going to let that go, so self-preservation meant an addition of, "The other arrangement is a bit more… recent of a development." And, well… thank heavens Samantha decided to change the subject for him with a well-timed moo. "But yes. Yes, she's very cute." That wasn't a lie - technically, it's just a diversion because she was sniffling and snuffling and wiggling her nose like she was adorable, which she was. Not that he was distracted or anything. - but he was getting better.

And, luckily, even if the cow hadn't decided to moo just then, Dean wandered in just then, settling three more bags to the ground and leaning against the baby gate. Evidently, he'd recovered from seeing the milk earlier because he actually managed a coherent sentence. "Do I even want to know what happened in here while I was gone?"

The answer was obvious. (Which was also obvious because of the way Cas and Charlie said it at the exact same time.) "No."