The scent of sandalwood always invaded your senses upon entering Castiel’s tent. You haven’t a clue how you let Castiel rope you into this, but he convinced you to just try something he cooked up.

Just a little something.

Special brownies. Today the sandalwood is mingled with fresh baked goods. And some other smell that remains integrated into the air around you.

Cas smiles ear to ear when he sees you. “You actually showed up. I thought you were fucking with me.” Sliding across the table is a plate of rather delicious looking brownies. He wondered what he promised Dean to get the stubborn hunter to lend him baking supplies.

“You might call me a professional at this ‘baking thing’.” Castiel muses and steals himself a crumb off your plate. “Go on. You can try it.” He says and taps his thumb on the countertop, “I’ll be here to babysit.” It’s hard to believe this ‘free spirit’ used to be a warrior for Heaven.

Once again, you cannot believe how he roped you into this, but you could use something to lift the weight of this apocalypse bullshit. So down the hatch it goes. Everyone knows the best way to remedy the mental torment the Croatoan breakout has caused—is to pay a visit to Castiel.

The resident hedonist.