AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Enochian is in bold
Thoughts/angel-radio/telepathy is in italics

BREAKING THE FAST
PART 1

Sam Winchester was convinced he had walked into the wrong kitchen. In the wrong bunker. Possibly in the wrong universe.

He heard Dean curse when he came to a sudden stop in front of the older hunter, but the stunning sight kept him in place. "Damn it, Sammy! You trying to kill me down there? What...the fuck happened in here?!" His brother's voice trailed off in wonder.

Dozens of colorful dishes were spread across the table and spilling out onto the island like some kind of holiday feast. All of Dean's favorites were present in multiple forms including several different pies ranging from a meat/cheese/egg combo to sweet fruits. Sam recognized several as coming from different world regions, and a few he couldn't even name a single ingredient. It smelled like he'd stepped into an Old World bakery where wood burning stoves were at full blaze and fresh breads baked in hints of smoke and fresh herbs.

The kitchen was sparkling clean and lit with countless tealight candles. Soft music played from a new radio. Scratch that—new sound system, high quality and flawlessly installed inside the bunker walls. The only remaining sign of mishap was Castiel, the walking evidence of disaster. The flour and egg from earlier was almost covered by bright fruit preserves, batter splatter, and what looked like curry. Clearly, much more had happened in the cooking extravaganza since seeing the angel ten minutes ago.

"Did you have this much food to cook with in the bunker?" Mary asked from Sam's left and he turned to see she was as astonished as he and Dean. He just shook his head no and looked back at the spectacle.

"Do you think Sully teamed up with Gabe on this?" Dean whispered.

"Oh God," Sam gulped at the idea. Those two would probably try to build him a fort on the moon if they thought he'd find it fun.

"Where did he get the food? When did he get the food?" Mary kept asking.

That made Dean's head jerk back up, "Gabriel, did you bend space-time in my kitchen?"

The archangel popped into existence in the middle of the room carrying two more dishes of fresh fruits. "What? Of course I bent space-time. How else was I going to get all this done under such limited conditions?" He set the platters on the counter top and Sam could see he was wearing a spotless knit sweater that said "I'm the Cook" in big block letters. Golden eyes lit on Castiel and his jaw dropped in a flare of panic, "Castiel! Did you clean the kitchen with your face and shirt? Do not move, you'll just smear it on everything." He snapped and Castiel jumped as all the evidence of food disappeared revealing the clean apron with the order to "Kiss the Cook."

Sam's eyes darted back to Gabriel's sweater and he groaned at the joke.

"Like it, mini-moose? I can make your pajama-things match us." It was all Trickster-teasing staring back at Sam, running his thumb over the tips of his other fingers like he was deciding which one to snap.

Sam tried to step back but he ran into Dean's knees and wouldn't risk losing eye-contact with the menace. "My mom bought these—don't you dare touch them!" he shot back. Mary snorted and he suddenly realized she'd probably heard him and Dean's plot to get rid of the embarrassing clothing. He wanted to look at her but Gabriel was walking toward him. Sam pressed his back as hard as he could against his brother but the man's legs were unmovable. This is the signal to retreat, Dean, so retreat already!

"See, this is why you kids are such easy, delicious targets to everything in the universe." Gabriel stood in front of Sam, staring down at him with his thumbs casually hooked in his jean pockets.

"Oh, yeah? And why is that?" Sam scoffed, trying to conceal how nervous the whole Trickster-side was making him.

They studied each other for a minute, looking for accidental tells hidden behind an expression. Gradually, warmth seeped back into the golden eyes and his sharp smile softened. Sam felt something loosen in his chest at the sight, although he still didn't fully trust the archangel aspect of Gabriel. "Because you are so fun to rile up, Samshine. Honestly, you two are like comedy gold. And now that I've made at least nine different dishes with bacon, permanently ingratiating myself to your older brother, I know I'll have a front-seat to the best entertainment in my Father's creation."

"How can you even make bacon in nine different ways?" Dean blurted.

"One involves doughnuts," Gabriel beamed proudly.

"Way to focus on the important issues, Dean," muttered Sam.

"Bacon doughnuts are very important right now. So is coffee," his brother said, nudging Sam with his knees, "Move it, short-stuff. We can discuss all the angel house rules while we eat." Dean stepped around him, and Sam almost fell at the sudden loss of physical support.

"Just remember," Gabriel's hand shot to the passing hunter's shoulder, making Dean pause, "as you eat the most amazing food ever to grace your presence, that you'd have waited for three days to even smell it if I'd cooked without a little reality-bending."

Dean just pushed past the shorter man and started inspecting dishes. Mary trailed behind him looking every bit the out-of-place-time-traveler being confronted with yet another mind-blowing aspect of the future. Then Sam wondered what it said about he and Dean's life that magically created feasts were harder to accept than a resurrected family member.

Sweeping his gaze over the glowing kitchen, Sam was let himself consider the vast amounts of energy and effort this kind of endeavor took. "This...is a lot," he said in a low voice.

"Well, I've seen how Dean eats," Gabriel said wryly.

Sam shook his head and looked him in the eye, "This is a lot," he repeated.

The archangel winced, "Too much?"

"No. No. Well, yes, but I'm just..." he struggled for the right words, "People don't cook for us. You didn't have to do all this."

Gabriel shrugged, "Meh, I like cooking. It lets me work off nervous energy and gives me time to think."

"Three days worth of thinking?" Sam asked pointedly.

"Hey, I woke up to a world where my Aunt and my Dad share drinks. That alone qualifies for a mini-cooking marathon," his face broke in a grin, "Plus, best breakfast ever. A solid win for all involved."

"Okay," Sam said, still unsure, "Just...regardless of any promises and threats Dean makes mid-meal, we really don't need this much on a regular basis. And should you be wasting your grace on bending time or space or making pocket-universe kitchens or whatever? We could potentially be dealing with all three of your older brothers..."

"Sam," Gabriel stopped him as he crouched down on one knee, and Sam shuffled back a step when he was suddenly face-to-face with confused and concerned eyes, "what is going on in that head of yours? 'Wasting my grace?' That's not how grace works, kiddo. It's not a limited pool that goes down with each use. Believe me, I'll teach you all about it, but in the meantime, you don't need to worry that cooking breakfast will leave me under-powered against a threat. Nothing will get close enough to sneeze on you while I'm around. What you need to focus on is enjoying my culinary genius. When's the last time you ate?"

Pushing aside his instinctive need to ask questions and demand a plan-of-action for worst-case scenarios, Sam struggled to recall the last time anyone had ever told him and Dean to not worry because they were being protected. Not their Dad—he gave them guns as children and expected them to defend themselves against monsters and strangers. Not even Chuck, who had relied on the brothers to save Him and the world. Sam wasn't sure he knew how to trust someone besides Dean or Castiel to have his back in battle. He didn't think he could trust anyone to exclusively oversee his safety.

Gabriel's voice cut through his thoughts, "If it's taking you this long to remember, then chances are it's been too long. Come on. Eat now, angst later." He mussed Sam's hair as he stood, then nudged the back of his head to move him toward the table.

It took a couple seconds of steady pressure for Sam to get his feet to move. He walked—an awkward endeavor when wearing clothes that constantly shifted. There were only two chairs left, and Sam hoisted himself into the one on the end of the table next to Dean. The other was to his right and next to Castiel, and while Sam didn't mind sitting next to his friend, he didn't think he could take being wedged between the two angels.

His height made sitting at the table uncomfortable because it put him barely eye-level with his plate. Dean had tried to get a booster seat at the store, but Sam was adamantly against it, saying he'd sit on a book if it was necessary. Now, though, it was isolating to not clearly see the people he could hear talking across the table.

A soft chuckle behind him was the only warning Sam got before he felt a hand grasp the chair back. The chair resonated and rose, growing upwards until he was at the perfect height. The hand ruffled his hair again, then Gabriel sat beside him. "Much better. Now it won't feel like I'm sneaking food to the sad puppy under the table. Why isn't everyone eating?"

"We all thought we should wait for you two," Mary said, but Sam caught Dean's eye-roll and guessed that it hadn't originally been a unanimous decision.

"What took you two so long? Swapping recipes while the rest of us starved?" Dean grumbled while grabbing his plate. The others followed him, Mary asking Gabriel questions about what he'd made.

Sam ignored him as he contemplated his newest dilemma. The food was spread throughout the kitchen on surfaces too high to reach, and while he could jump off the higher-chair, he would have to drag a stool and his food to get back up. That didn't factor in the full-cup of coffee he'd been guaranteed that morning.

Before he could consider his situation any further, a hand reached down and took his empty plate only to replace it with one piled high with food. There was fresh fruit, and sauteed vegetables, and a spicy smoked meat, and the curry he'd seen splashed across Castiel's apron. He looked up in time to see Dean take his empty plate and demand Gabriel point out the dishes with bacon.

When the others returned, Sam tapped Dean's knee with his foot. "Thanks," he said when the hunter looked up.

His brother grinned, "I got you the things that smelled weird and didn't look like breakfast. Figured that's what you'd want."

"Well, thanks for not giving me your Nine Course Heart Attack," he said, frowning at Dean's overflowing plate with a large doughnut balanced precariously at the top.

"Whatever, if I get to choose my next death, it's gonna involve this right here," Dean waved the maple frosting with bacon sprinkles doughnut in front of Sam's nose before taking a large bite. The man's whole body froze, and for a split second Sam feared something was wrong. The image of Dean sitting at a motel table eating tacos on a Tuesday flashed in Sam's mind. Then, the hunter held one hand up to get Gabriel's attention, "This. Is. Awesome."

"Told ya!" Gabriel said, leaning back in his chair with a cocky confidence and turning to Sam, "What about you? Ready to express adoration?" The archangel's eyes glanced down to his untouched plate, and looked back up with an expression that clearly said 'start eating or suffer the airplane impressions as I feed you.'

Sam grabbed a piece of fruit with his fingers and shoved it in his mouth. The absolute freshness almost made him gasp, but he stopped before he could choke. The taste was unbelievable and unlike anything he'd gotten in diners or the store.

"Figures you'd go for the only thing I didn't cook. Although, I did have to go to the best individual year for each type of fruit and pick the best of each crop. So I guess that still counts," Gabriel shrugged nonchalantly.

Looking from his plate to the platter of fruit in the kitchen, Sam counted what all he could identify then leveled his gaze back on the archangel. "Gabriel, there are at least a dozen different kinds of berries and melons and fruits here."

"Yeah, so?" the gold in his eyes was bright.

"So, you time hopped over a dozen times to get fresh groceries?" Sam asked, exasperated. Gabriel could brag all he wanted about how his grace was unending, but time travel used an enormous amount of power and always drained the angels who had done it around Sam. Even Lucifer...

"Yes," Gabriel drew the word out slowly like he'd been asked a trick question.

Thinking about it now, though, it seemed more likely Lucifer had merely been thrown by the sigils on the submarine. What Sam had read as Castiel's desperation to retrieve the friend he'd failed was really Lucifer's frustration at being denied his goal. Sam shuddered. The sick, cold panic of losing his brother to a war in the past battled with the burning hot fear of losing Castiel to a fool's errand. Neither situation was acceptable, and he did the only thing he could to prevent both by offering his soul's energy to his friend. Only to have Lucifer shove him against a pillar and thrust a hand into his chest.

He remembered the sensation of the fallen archangel's icy grace wrapped around his broken soul as being worse than the flashbacks, or even his recent physical altercation with the devil wearing Nick's face in the cage. It was a pain more familiar than home.

"Whoa there," a voice said and Sam felt warmth cascade over him. Fingers landed light on his face until his vision was filled with grace-glowing eyes. "That didn't look like a fun place you just drifted to, kiddo. You back now?"

Sam blinked and the present returned around him. He felt the others watching him, but he kept his gaze on Gabriel. "What if something had happened?" his tone serious with only a slight tremor slipping past his control, "You could have run into anyone, including Lucifer! What if he'd found you after you'd just time-hopped a bunch of times?" They had no idea what all the devil had done while wearing Castiel so for all they knew he could have gone through the past looking for other weapons. There hadn't been time for that conversation yet.

"Sam, I know where my brother is at times and places," Gabriel said with a quiet intensity and hint of desperation, "I've been on Earth for a very long time. It's almost impossible for anything to get the jump on me. As an archangel, I can tell you where every single one of my siblings are at this very moment, and I can name each one that has been lost since my death. If Lucifer leaves this timeline, I will know. I will be able to follow him, and he would know because he can feel me too. Which is why we are staying far away from each other. Now, please stop worrying about my grace, and eat before you hurt my feelings." He ended his serious speech by fluttering his lashes dramatically.

"But..." Sam started, but was cut off by a voice to his left.

"Dude, we've lowered the threat level from nuclear to, like, green. We can afford to a meal or two before we have to spiral back into a crisis, okay?" Sam stared at his older brother, trying to determine if he was telling the truth or just trying to reassure him. But Dean wasn't coddling him, and there was no hint of mockery despite his words.

"Sam," Castiel's voice drew everyone's attention, "I believe you are mistaken in how you perceive Gabriel's grace to work. Archangels are different from the other angels. Besides being much more powerful, they also do not require a connection with Heaven and the host to retain their grace. He has an infinite supply. So while time travel can drain most angels, it would have no measurable effect on him. Also, remember that he is 'fully-charged,'" the air-quotes caused a few fond smiles around the table, "while Lucifer was ejected from my vessel after fighting against Amara. Right now, he is weakened and vessel-less. We would possibly have the advantage even without Gabriel."

Blue eyes patiently held his own until Sam released his breath and finally nodded in acceptance. He'd needed the explanation, and was grateful Castiel had seen and given it. "Okay," he said to the others. Everyone relaxed again as he pushed his unanswered questions down and focused on his food. Steam still rose from the cooked portions and he immediately took a bite to distract himself from the thinking about whether Gabriel was using grace to continuously heat everything.

A full mug of coffee found its way next to his plate, perfectly fixed to his liking, and he made himself to relax. The food really was amazing, and it didn't take long for Sam to lose himself in the joy of sharing the meal with everyone. Gabriel kept making Castiel try different things and showed him how to use his grace to taste it. It took several tries, but the shocked look on the younger angel's face when he finally got the hang of it made Gabriel beam with pride.

"So, Deano," the archangel started as he heaped slices of pie onto his and the hunter's plates, "who is this Sully person you thought I'd teamed up? Sounds like an interesting character if your mind went straight to him at the sight of my masterpiece."

"How did you even hear that?" Sam jumped in before Dean could answer.

"Hello, have you met me? And I'm not asking you so hush."

Sam groaned and buried his face in his hands when he heard Dean chuckle, "Sully was Sammy's imaginary friend when he was little. Only we recently learned he's not so imaginary."

"Really? Color me intrigued. What was he?" Gabriel leaned back in his chair.

"A short round guy with rainbow suspenders and an offensively yellow shirt."

Mary put down her coffee, "You're telling me that some man hung around when you were children and neither you or John ever saw him? And he spent time with Sam?"

They could all see the possible scenarios she was sorting through plain on her face. Dean sat up a little realizing he'd freaked her out, but it was Sam who spoke. "It wasn't like that," he promised her before shooting a glare at his brother, "Sully's a Zanna."

The angels nodded in understanding, but Mary was not reassured. "And what are Zanna? I've never heard of them."

"They're harmless beings who protect kids. Think of them as supernatural caseworkers who step in to help human children. I've never heard of them revealing themselves to adults—even those who used to be under their protection." Gabriel studied the brothers like he'd been handed a puzzle piece and had no idea where it belonged in the big picture.

Sam shrugged and silently vowed revenge on his brother for ever uttering Sully's name. 'Supernatural caseworker' made it sound like their situation growing up had been so bad that even creatures felt the need to intercede on their behalf. "It was a special case. He came to us because someone was killing Zanna and he needed help."

"How long had it been since you'd seen him?" Gabriel asked conversationally, but Sam still felt like he was under a spotlight.

"I was nine," he swallowed, "I told him to leave because I didn't need him anymore. That I didn't know why I'd made him up in the first place. It..it was good to see him again even if it was a surprise to learn he wasn't imaginary."

"How old were you when he first appeared to you?" Castiel asked.

"Um, I'm not sure. Six, maybe?" Sam grabbed his coffee to warm his hands and give them something to hold.

Dean cleared his throat, "It was right after I started kindergarten, so you'd have been about three."

Sam's body jerked at his brother's words and coffee spilled over his hands. "What? No way was it that early!"

But Dean was nodding, "Yeah, dude. I remember it took me days to figure out this new word you kept saying. You dropped your L's all the time so it sounded like you were trying to say 'see.' Then you drew a picture of a yellow circle with colorful stripes and a head to show me."

"Did John know?" Mary asked, calmer than before but still obviously disturbed.

"Yeah, dad was pretty freaked at first. He called around and read a bunch of lore trying to figure out what it could be. But then Sam started talking to his 'Suh-ee' when we were there. There was no EMF, and none of our wards were disturbed, so we just figured he'd made an imaginary friend." Dean shuddered and looked at Sam, "You know, it is a bit creepy to realize that dude was there with us that whole time."

"It's not like I knew he was real!" Sam exclaimed, still trying to wrap his head around the fact that Sully had been a part of his life for six years.

"He sounds like a fun guy," Gabriel broke into the inevitable fight between brothers, "So why did you think he was partly responsible for all this?" He gestured toward the food.

Dean laughed and Sam saw Mary relax a little more at the easy display of humor. "Because when he showed up in the bunker a few months ago, he made a much smaller feast of Sam's favorite weirdo snacks. Like marshmallow nachos."

"Marshmallow nachos? Really, Sasquash? Are you hiding a secret sweet-tooth from me?" Gabriel grinned.

"They weren't my favorite snack," Sam muttered, "They were just something I wanted as a kid."

"Well, I'll keep that in mind for future meals," Gabriel said as he rose from the table. Everyone had finished eating, so he snapped and all the food and dirty dishes and candles disappeared.

"Hey! I wanted to save some of that for later." Dean stared mournfully around at all the empty surfaces.

"Relax, it's in the fridge. I improved it's size capacity and nothing will spoil inside," Gabriel waved off the outrage, "And I swear to my Dad, if you start again Sam, I will make you listen to a six hour lecture on how grace works."

Sam shut his mouth and swallowed the desire to argue. Instead, he looked down to figure out how to get to the floor. A snapping sound almost made him pitch forward, but instead of anything dramatic happening, a small ladder formed on the side of his chair. It looked similar to the kind built into bunk beds—the rungs ran along the legs like they were designed to be there. With a grateful nod to Gabriel, he climbed down on his own. Relief filled him at being able to do the simple task himself.

"Come on, squirt," Dean said as he stretched, "Let's get your new clothes to your room so you can change before you injure yourself trying to walk in those things."

"Dress warm, kids," Gabriel called to them, "It's chilly outside today."

"And?" Dean paused at the hallway entrance.

"And I have plans that involve us not staying in the bunker."

Dean shook his head and continued toward the war table that still held all their shopping bags, "Yeah, that's not ominous at all."

AUTHOR'S POST 2K16 ELECTION NOTE:
 Thanks for everyone's patience. This week has been devastatingly unreal. I almost wasn't able to get this written.

I hope everyone stays safe, and know that you are loved and precious.