Chapter 7: Breakfast of …heroes
As Bobby came downstairs, he noticed two things wrong with the picture. Something missing and, the other, something where it didn't belong. First off, the angel wasn't tossing around on the couch, twisting the scratchy blanket Sam'd thrown over her into knots. The other was the smell of bacon, fresh coffee and something that hinted at cinnamon and maple. Just coffee would have been one thing, not unheard of for one of the boys to make a pot if they're up first, but the food? Bobby loves his boys, God knows he does, but their cooking skills don't exceed heating Spaghetti O's or nuking day-old fast food. This stuff actually smelled… well, good.
Glancing at the discarded blanket neatly folded on the arm, he stepped into the kitchen to find angel girl be-bopping in front of the stove. Thin white wires lead from her head to one of those new fangled music contraptions clipped to a leather belt. Bobby considered tapping her shoulder. But that was before noticing the plate of bacon a few feet away on the counter. A quick peek that Bithiel wasn't looking, and the old scrap dealer dared to snag a strip of meat.
SMACK…or not!
Pulling out an earplug, she informed him with a grin, "I knew you were awake before your feet hit the floor. Why don't ya get a plate? There's already some French toast done."
"Why don't ya get a plate?, He mocked with chuckle. "Who do ya think ya are? M' wife?"
She merely shot him a side glance.
"Hope you're not upset bout me commandeering your kitchen. I was running - or, rather, flying and, okay, that sounds strange - flying a few errands and hit a good deal on Hatfield Apple Hickory bacon. Made me hungry, figured I'd make enough for everybody.", the angel rattled on dropping three thick slices of fried bread on his plate.
"No! Not all! Been a while since I had more for breakfast than coffee or whiskey. Hell, or both for that matter." Sitting, he continued around a mouthful of bacon, "It's good. But never heard of Hatfield."
"Oh, it's a popular brand in N.!"
"N.E. … Wait!" Bobby swallowed hard as the initials clicked, "Pennsylvania? You were in Pennsylvania this morning?"
Bithiel turned back to the stove to avoid the sharp look.
"Yeah. I was grabbing a few of my things. You know…" she mimicked Sam the night before, "Since you're stuck with me for a while."
"Things? What kind of things does an angel need?"
Her voice dropped slowly to a whisper as she recounted items. "You know. A couple changes of clothes, my laptop, cell phone and chargers… my Camaro… Morning, guys!" She finished without looking up.
Bobby looked up to find Sam and Dean standing in the doorway, disbelieving looks etched on their faces.
"Camaro? You brought a car?" Sam asked shaking his head while retrieving two plates from the cabinet.
"How'd you get it here? And what the hell would you need with a car, anyway?" Dean wondered, taking a dish from his brother and grabbing some bacon.
Placing the pan in the sink and the plate of toast on the table, she debated with the older brother, "She's here pretty much the same way I turned over the Impala last night. Besides, would you want to leave your baby more than half way across the country?"
The look he answered with while chewing screamed 'Hell, No!'.
"Since when are angels all materialistic about their vessels' possessions?" Sam tried to reason. Looking up when no answer came, the men found the angel staring blankly at the ceiling.
"Hey, girl? You alright?" Bobby tried calling.
"Bithiel!" Dean summoned, followed by a high whistle and had the vacant expression turned to him.
"Huh? Oh. Sorry, guys, um… I gotta go. Enjoy breakfast." Bithiel replied slowly.
With that, a gentle breeze fanned through the kitchen as the angel took flight. In her wake, the three men regarded each other curiously.
"Hey, Bobby. Did you find out anything else useful last night?" Sam inquired over his coffee.
"Ah-huh! Got a theory. An' that little confession adds some cement." He had a forkful of French toast before adding with a smirk, "Eat up, boys, then we'll have story time."