The air was thick and sweet and smelled like a bakery. I was leaning against the kitchen counter in the bunker, reading a book in one hand and holding a mug of tea in the other. Things had been so hectic lately with the search for Abaddon not going so well. Sam and Dean had been hunched over in the main hall doing research all week and coming up dry. As if a Knight of Hell running around wasn't stressful enough, the King of Hell was currently locked up in the basement. There was too much pressure on all of us to perform and the bunker's atmosphere was saturated with tension. But today, I decided, was going to be a chance to unwind a little. I couldn't carry on with the weight of the world on my shoulders. We were all human; I could only take on so much responsibility before collapsing under the strain.
I'd convinced Dean to buy these boxes of muffin mix months ago and I decided now was the perfect time to use them. All I had done was add the eggs, milk, and butter and popped it all into the oven in a muffin pan, which I was happy to discover after digging through the bottom cabinets for 5 minutes. The smell of baking treats filled my head with pleasant images of a sunlit kitchen with the window open, a slight breeze fluttering through and ruffling checkered curtains...
I heard heavy footfalls approaching and I turn my head in time to watch Sam lumber through the doorway. His hazel eyes are bleary and his hair is sticking up in the back. He looks like a toddler who just woke up from a midday nap but I know for a fact he's gotten hardly any shuteye for the past 42 hours. He rubs his face and takes a few more steps in the general direction of the coffee machine.
"Hey, Sammy," I coo gently, watching his slow movements with concern. "How's it going in there?"
"Not good," he sighs, pouring what was left of the black sludge he and Dean had been calling coffee. He took a drink and grimaced. "We've been reading for hours and we can't find anything that could help us pin her down."
I furrow my brow sympathetically, my gut-clenching a little bit. It was important to find this bitch and gank her before she got ahead in Hell's approval ratings. I looked down at the floor, a feeling of dread creeping over me.
Time was of the essence. I had to find her soon or else— I took a deep breath and let it out. No, I wasn't going to psych myself out. Not right now. Besides, the best way to help was to keep everyone motivated and positive.
"What's that smell?" Sam finally asked.
I looked up at him, my countenance brightening. I lean back against the counter, a sly smile on my face.
"Oh, I just thought I'd make you and Dean something special for working so hard," I replied cryptically.
He lifts a brow and stares at me blankly for a moment before cracking a slight smile.
"What are you making?" He buys into my guessing game. A perfect opportunity to cheer him up.
"You're smart, Sam," I reply with a playful grin. "Give your best guess."
"...Alright," he scoffs, looking around the kitchen with more alertness than he'd been showing the books the past few hours. "Cake." He spots the cupcake papers left on the counter. "Cupcakes."
"Not exactly," I comment, grabbing the wrappers and tossing them into a drawer. I'd hoped to keep him guessing but there was really only one other treat that required the use of paper cups.
"Muffins?"
"Bingo!" I call loudly, pointing at him. "You're the winner-winner, chicken dinner! And as your reward, you get to have the first choice of the muffins. They're almost done." I glance at the time, which had less than a minute left. I brush past him to get some I Can't Believe It's Not Butter from the fridge and pat his bicep affectionately on the way.
