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Understanding

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#1 - Toast

Castiel tried. He really did. He tried to be like Sam and Dean, and like any normal human being, but he was an angel, and sometimes that made it a tiny bit more difficult. He didn't understand a lot of the things humans did; why did they feel a need to use the toilet numerous times during the day? Why was Dean so protective over a car? And why did Sam insist on washing his hair twice every night?

It was little things like these that confused the angel. He had always been curious of the humans when he had been up in heaven, and could still vividly remember pestering Gabriel to bring him down to Earth one day to meet them. That day had happened - though Gabe hadn't been there - a very long time ago. He was now living in the bunker with the Winchesters, but he was still having difficulty trying to understand everything the boys did. He understood the concept of drinking, and brushing your teeth, and small things like that, but larger things just… slipped through his mind.

Cas sighed as he looked up from the laptop on the table in front of him. He was trying to find a case he and the Winchesters could work on, but wasn't having any luck. The world seemed pretty quiet recently. Strange.

"Mornin' Cas."

The angel looked up, raising an eyebrow at Dean, who was trudging down the stairs. He was still in his pyjamas, barefoot, and looking extremely tired. "Good morning, Dean," he replied monotonously – no change there.

"Any luck finding a case?"

"No, none so far."

"Really?"

"Really," Castiel replied with a sigh, leaning back against his chair as he turned the laptop around to face Dean. The man squeezed his eyes shut and winced at the brightness, quickly pressing the button to lower it. He stared at the screen with narrowed eyes and scrolled down the page for a few minutes, raising both eyebrows once he saw that the angel was right.

"Yeah, nothing here," he said, shutting the laptop. He sighed and flopped down onto a chair, leaning back against it and closing his eyes.

"You look exhausted," Castiel told him. "Did you not sleep?"

"I did, actually," Dean said, "pretty well if I'm being honest."

"Then why are you still tired?"

Dean glanced up at the angel. He was looking straight at him, head tilted to the side like a lost puppy, eyes narrowed slightly in his 'I don't understand that reference' expression.

"It's, er…" Dean wavered, trying to find a way to explain it. "Its just my body waking up, bud."

"Your… body?" Castiel asked hesitantly. Oh father, please don't let this be another thing he would have to learn about humans.

"Yeah, it's like, er… I've been asleep for a while, and so my body's been still, and now it's waking up. Get it?"

Cas nodded. "It's like recharging a mobile phone, right?"

"I guess you could put it like that," the hunter laughed, dragging a hand tiredly down his face. "But what'd really recharge me is a coffee and toast." At this, he turned pleading eyes on his friend.

Cas frowned. Coffee? Fine, yes, he'd made the Winchesters cups of coffee more times than he could count. But toast? He'd never worked that weird machine before in his life.

And thus came Dean's long (and probably very confusing, judging by the angel's expressions) explanation on how to put the bread in the toaster, and to make sure they didn't get burnt, and to know when he had put exactly the right amount of butter on so it would melt 'the proper way'.

Cas didn't understand.

But he said he did to shut Dean up.

The hunter smiled as his friend walked off to the kitchen. Once he was out of sight, and the tell-tale sound of hands reaching into the bread bag, and the fridge opening, he sighed and turned back to the laptop, opening it and logging on. It had stayed on the page Cas had found, and Dean slowly scrolled through the various cases, scanning the title and description of each one. His frown deepened when all he saw were clearly murder or suicide cases with nothing supernatural about them at all.

"You're up early," came a new voice, and the older Winchester looked up, smiling as he saw his brother walking down the stairs.

"Mornin' Sammy. You alright?"

"Fine, thanks," Sam replied. "Where's Cas?"

"Making me toast," Dean said with a smug grin.

"Toast?" Sam rose both eyebrows. "Cas knows how to make toast?"

"I taught him," Dean said, before turning his head in the direction of the kitchen. "How's it going, pal?"

"The bread is in," came the reply, sounding like he was on some TV show. "I am waiting for it to- AHHHH!"

Both Sam and Dean turned wide eyes on each other at the angel's scream, and before they knew it, the two were out of their seats and running toward the kitchen, a gun in both Winchesters' hands which they had grabbed on their way.

"Cas-"

"-why did you scream-"

"-what the hell happened-"

"-who've I gotta kill?!"

The brothers skidded to a halt once they had entered the kitchen, guns poised and ready to fire, both panting heavily. They looked at Cas, expecting to see him in someone's (probably Lucifer's) grasp, an angel blade to his throat… but no.

He was on the ground.

Two slices of toast next to him.

Looking completely terrified.

"Er… Cas?" Sam asked confusedly. "What… um. What happened?" The angel reached out and picked up both pieces of toast. He was breathing very heavily, hands shaking slightly. Slowly, he lifted his gaze and turned an accusing look on Dean.

"You didn't tell me they flew out."