A/N: This was a request from anonymous on Tumblr, asking to see Cas and different languages.

Setting: Bunker era, gen case!ficlet

Summary: A witch's curse leaves Dean and Sam speaking languages they don't know, and it's seriously annoying. Cas is trying to help. He's getting exasperated. ("ExCASperated", thank you SO MUCH casquecest for that tag on Tumblr, it's actual perfection!)

"Das ist lächerlich," Dean grumbled, scowling at the rows of herbs and various spell ingredients on the counter of the Bunker's kitchen. "Repariere es!"

Castiel rolled his eyes and replied—yet again—"I'm trying to fix it. If you'd just give me a moment-"

"Wir haben keinen Moment! Beeile dich!"

"I am hurrying. Maybe you want to read the potion instead?"

"C'est en araméen," Sam snaped from the other side of the counter. From the way he was looking at the spell book—which was indeed written in Aramaic—it might have personally wronged him.

Castiel tried to bite his tongue, but he was at the end of his rope with these two. "Maybe if you had listened to me when I said don't go after the witch alone, you wouldn't be in this mess," he retorted. "Maybe you would still be speaking English right now. Although," he couldn't help but add testily, "you don't seem to be much more proficient with your own language, if you fail to understand a very simple 'wait until I get there'."

"Leck mich am Arsch, Cas!"

The angel looked up from the book to give Dean a withering look; he wasn't going to dignify that with a response.

"Nous devons nous dépêcher," Sam insisted, gesturing to the spell book. "Elle va s'échapper."

"As I already told you," Castiel growled, "I'm hurrying as fast as I can. And yes, she probably is going to escape. You have no one to blame but yourselves. At least you managed to get her book, if nothing else. Sam, hand me an owl skull." He took the offered bone and crushed it with the heel of his hand in the shallow brass bowl laid out on the counter.

"Wenn ich sie finde…" Dean muttered, punching his fist into an open hand, as though the vague threat against the witch was contributing anything.

Across the counter, Sam frowned. "Quelle?" He turned to Castiel. "Qu'a t'il dit?"

"Nothing," Castiel answered. He was too tired of translating back and forth for each Winchester's benefit to continue being the middle man.

"Was hat er gesagt?" Dean asked on cue.

"Nothing!" Castiel snapped louder, throwing the last of the ingredients into the bowl. The witch's curse was frustratingly effective, the hunters unable to work together or even focus on the hunt with their disrupted language in so much chaos. The sooner he put them back to normal, the better. Taking a breath, he read the spell word for word in the ancient Aramaic.

A flash lit the kitchen, leaving spots in Castiel's eyes as he watched the boys both blink away their own blindness.

Dean sighed with relief and gave his head a shake. "Jsme zpátky do normálu?"

All three of them froze. Castiel stared at Dean, then squinted down at the spell book. No, they were not back to normal. Dean might not have been speaking German anymore, but Castiel wasn't sure why the hunter had switched to Czech instead of reverting back to his native English. He had read everything correctly… hadn't he?

"Um…"

"Um?" Sam repeated, hysteria building in his tone. "Cas, o que você fez?"

"I didn't do anything!" the angel protested. Unless Sam just happened to know a little Portuguese and they were toying with him, but they sounded too panicked for that. "I just read the counterspell, I- that should have worked! I don't understand… oh."

"OH?" both brothers repeated, the exclamation universal.

Castiel offered the pair a sheepish shrug. "There's a smudge on the page. I needed two owl skulls. And… oh, it looks like we haven't got any more. I'll go find some. Just… sit tight, you two."

Really, it was their own faults, Castiel reminded himself again; the furious shouts followed him out the door as the angel fled.