Chapter 11

"Why the hell hasn't Crowley come after her?"

Dean slumped over the kitchen table the next morning, cleaning a shotgun. Sam sat opposite Dean. Bobby grumbled and swore from the stove, decked out in a frilly apron. Unfortunately, it didn't seem to be doing much good. Flour coated him in a fine dusting from ball cap to boots, there were even streaks in his scruff.

Dean leaned back and shrugged, "I don't know Sammy, maybe Crowley doesn't want to tangle with Cass."

Bobby glanced up from the stove, "I ain't complaining about the lack of demon activity, but if that girl is even half as valuable as Cass says, then I can't see one angel stopping him…Ouch!" Bobby swore, shaking a newly scorched finger. Turning back to the stove, he frowned at the drippy mess bubbling in a cast iron pan that looked like it dated back to the civil war. "Dammit. I think that pancake mix was faulty."

Sam peered over Bobby's shoulder and grimaced. "What the hell Bobby? Are you trying to make pancakes, or summon a demon?"

Dean sauntered up, and poked gingerly at one of Bobby's rejected attempts. The poor misshapen flapjack had been burnt to within an inch of its life. The one below it was in crumbles, and the first one was so undercooked that batter still oozed from it's sides.

Bobby slapped Dean's hand away with his spatula, "Hand's off buttercup!"

Dean grinned and elbowed Sam in the ribs, "Maybe Crowley's afraid Bobby will try to feed him his cooking. That's enough to scare Lucifer himself."

Bobby glared at Dean, "Fine, Paula Dean. Let's see YOU do any better!" Bobby whipped the flour encrusted apron over his head and jammed it into Dean's chest. He marched out the door, muttering expletives all the way.

Sam grinned, "Now you've done it Dean, you poked the bear."

Dean eyed the pan warily, "How important are pancakes in the larger scope of things anyway?"

Sam clucked his tongue, "Oh no, there's no getting out of this one. Aiyla has to eat something. She didn't have more than a few bites of toast last night. She'll never get better if we keep her half-starved."

"I am no expert in the culinary arts, however I do not believe that is how those are supposed to look."

Dean and Sam started at the sudden appearance of Cass, who was poking at the burned pancake with interest. Sam scoffed, "That's putting it mildly."

The angel nodded, "I see, perhaps…" He jerked his head to the side, frowning, "Excuse me."

He blinked out of sight.

"Where the hell did he g…"

Cass reappeared with a startled Aiyla clasped in his arms. The brothers raised their eyebrows in query.

"She was attempting to descend the stairs on her rear." Cass shot the Winchesters a reproachful glance, "You should really be more attentive."

Aiyla, recovering from her surprise, shook her head, "I…It was my fault Castiel. I should have asked for assistance. I did not."

Dean decided she looked better this morning; Not quite so pale, and her eyes had lost their feverish glaze. He noted the stiff way Aiyla held herself in Cass's arms. "Ah… Cass? Personal space, remember? You can put her down."

The angel, standing obliviously, looked down at his charge with dawning realization. "Ah…yes. Of course. He strode over to the table and settled her carefully onto one of the worn old chairs. "My apologies."

Aiyla pinked, and shot Cass a hesitant smile. "That's ok. Thankyou…for your help."

The angel rubbed the back of his neck and shuffled his feet, staring at her quizzically. "You are…welcome."

It briefly flitted across Dean's mind that Cass wasn't used to gratitude. Wracking his brain, he realized that he and Sam probably hadn't thanked the angel very often, considering all he had done for them. As quickly as the thought occurred though, Dean banished it just as quickly. He mentally shrugged. Ah well, couldn't go letting the featherbrain get a big head.

Cass eyed the atrocity of a breakfast that Dean was halfheartedly attempting to salvage. "Perhaps it would be best if I seek out sustenance."

Dean tossed the spatula down with a relieved sigh. He flinched when the batter coating the utensil splattered onto his cheek. "God's yes, Cass. That's the best idea I've heard all morning."

Cass turned to Aiyla, "What is it you like to eat?"

Her eyes immediately went dreamy. "Oh, oatmeal or porridge would be wondrous…and perhaps fruit? We had a beautiful plum tree in the valley…an apple one too. Oh, and in the summers we would pick raspberries, and blue berries, and…"

Dean looked at Aiyla as if she had just suggested that Cass bring her the head of a newborn for breakfast. "Fruit? Really sister? What about some meat…protein you know? Who waxes nostalgic about plums?"

She trumped Dean's horrified gaze with one of her own, "Oh no, I just couldn't. I could never bring myself to eat some innocent animal, I would feel just…terrible."

Dead paled and weaved unsteadily to a chair, throwing himself down. "My god. I cant…I mean…who…"

Sam glared at Dean, "Don't pay him any mind Aiyla, Dean thinks the major food groups consist of beef, bacon, grease, and pie."

Aiyla grimaced, "Oh dear. I see."

Cass plopped a bowl of what Dean supposed was porridge, in front of Aiyla. Beside it, he added a bowl piled high with fruit. "Is this satisfactory?"

Aiyla flinched, she hadn't even noticed Cass left. Eyeing the fruit she quickly recovered, "Oh yes. It's just perfect. Thank you!"

She reached out a visibly trembling hand, eyeing the food as if it was the Holy Grail itself. She plucked out a ruby red strawberry, and took a reverent bite. Aiyla closed her eyes and let out a pleasured moan that was indicative of nothing less than absolute ecstasy.

Dean's horrified expression wavered, as she loosed another moan that was obviously indicative of nothing short of absolute ecstasy. He saw Sam's jaw drop from the corner of his eye. Dean turned to his brother, "My god, she's all but having an orgasm over one puny little strawberry…how does that even happen?"

Sam shrugged, as dumbfounded and Dean. Aiyla opened pleasure glazed eyes and frowned, "What's an orgasm?"

Dean's jaw dropped and Sam began to have a coughing fit. Cass, who had been watching Aiyla eating the strawberry with the oddest look of wonderstruck fascination, opened his mouth to explain. "It is the physical and emotional sensation humans experience at the peak of…"

"Oh god Cass, shut your pie hole." Dean muttered, dropping his head to the table and rolling his forehead back and forth on it's surface.

The angel barreled on"…sexual excitation, usually resulting from the stimulation of the sexual organs, and in the case of the human male, often resulting in ejaculation. The French refer to it as the little death. In some cultures…"

"Cass, for the love of all that's holy, stop talking!" Sam implored.

The angel stopped, studying the appalled looks of the Winchesters in confusion. Finding no answer there, he looked to Aiyla. Cass decided he now had a better understanding of the human phrase, 'eyes as round as saucers.' If the little female's eyes grew any wider, they would reach her hairline. Mentally backtracking, Cass realized he had obviously overstepped one of the countless and confusing social boundaries that humans placed such importance on. Obviously, despite her rather unorthodox upbringing, Aiyla followed a set of similar values. Cass cleared his throat, "Ah, I apologize…some of the nuances of what humans deem socially acceptable are foreign to me."

Aiyla shook herself from her surprised stupor, "No, I…I did ask. I'm sorry, I was simply taken aback by the topic. My aunt did not have any books detailing…orgasms." She perked up, "But this place has many more books than Amerielle possessed. Perhaps I can find one here to further educate myself."

." Dean always thought he'd die bloody…as a hunter should. Nope. Clearly, little Miss ignorant and the socially stunted tax accountant with wings, were in cahoots to do him in via some nice and slow torture. Dean slammed his head into the table, "We're doomed Sammy…kill me now