7) Taking matters into my own hands

She had never felt so rested, so relaxed. Sighing contentedly, she stretched out on her bed and looked at her bleak surroundings. She half-expected Wyatt to jump out of nowhere and ask her when dinner was going to be ready. At the thought of him, she sat up and hugged her knees to her chest, closing in on herself. My baby…

Don't humans usually eat dinner around this hour?

Castiel sat at the closed piano staring at the clock. Tick, tock, tick. His vessel's stomach had already rumbled twice while Sophie was asleep. He went to the kitchen and looked at the stove. Holding the skillet by its handle, he placed it on top of a burner. He muttered a quick prayer and turned the heat up to medium. This is where I take matters into my own hands…

With her hair up and clad in an oversized sweater and jeans, Sophie slid down the banister as she went down the stairs. Wyatt should have seen that, she thought, looking rather pleased with her elegant landing.

She looked around and the angel was nowhere to be found. Must have taken a break. It wasn't till she went to the kitchen. "What the—Castiel, what the hell are you doing?!"

He was never the one to be startled, but he jerked his hand away from the skillet while the other held onto a rubber spatula. "I'm cooking. Well, at least trying to".

Sophie cleared her throat loudly and held out an open hand. "Spatula, please?"

He handed it to her, and she pried the eggs off the skillet and put them on the plate. Placing it on the counter, she looked at it with the most dubious expression on her face. "Angels don't cook, do they?" she asked.

Even he had to admit, those things on the plate were sad excuses for eggs. "Apparently not".

Sophie giggled and whipped out a fork, poking the yolk with it. Yellow liquid oozed out and dominated a section of the plate. "You forgot to put salt in it, unless you like your eggs to taste as raw as they were before they were cooked".

He cocked his head to one side as he squinted at her in confusion. She exhaled sharply, and asked, "Do angels even eat?"

"Of course we do", Castiel replied. "We have to sustain our vessels".

"Well, I'm pretty sure your vessels would want good food, too", she replied, nudging the eggs around on the plate. "This, my friend, is an epic failure. That's why we have places like Waffle House and IHOP—it's for the people who can't cook".

Dumping them into the sink, she turned to Castiel and said, "Even Wyatt could have done a better job with that. Look, why don't you go into the living room and I'll get dinner started?"

The angel nodded and left. I guess cooking for her is out of the question, then.

The mouth-watering aroma of fried chicken and mashed potatoes filled the kitchen in a matter of minutes. Once she was done, she yelled, "Castiel! Dinner's ready!"

There were no little footsteps to announce the arrival of little feet. The angel came in quietly and took his place across from her. "Do you usually say grace before eating?"

Exhaling sharply, she clasped her hands in front of her and bowed her head. "Well, aren't you going to say it with me?" she asked, opening an eye to look at him.

The corners of his mouth turned up into a little smile as he closed his eyes. After saying grace, they began eating. "You know, if it makes you feel better, Dean can't cook to save his life", she said, smiling through a forkful of mashed potatoes. "He's lucky to have Sam".

Castiel nodded. "One makes up for what the other one lacks. Those two are inseparable".

"Tell me about it. They're lucky to have each other".

The angel looked up for his food and scrutinized her face. Sophie looked at him sideways and asked, "Something wrong?"

"You've got Wyatt, don't you? There's no need to feel…lonely".

Lonely? She put her fork down and leaned back. "Related or not, that boy is all I have", she said, "I miss him".

Castiel nodded, and nudged his potatoes. For the first time, he felt…hesitant. "Why did Wyatt ask you to stay anyway?" she asked.

The angel shrugged. "He wants you to be happy".

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Everyone wants to be happy, but that's besides the point".

As soon as dinner was over, she got up and cleared the table. "Do you need help with the dishes?" Castiel asked.

Sophie sighed and handed him a towel. "You can dry, but that's just about it", she said.

They got to work and Sophie started washing the knives when one of them slipped through her fingers and cut a wide gash on her open palm. Blood poured out nonstop, and in a blink of an eye, Castiel was by her side, dabbing at the open wound. "Not again…" she groaned as she spilled away from consciousness.

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Anna

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