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'Dean! Dammit, Dean, slow down! It's not a race!'
But Dean was already diving through the door and into the driver's seat, leaving Sam several feet behind, clutching a lukewarm carrier bag containing leftover pie. Dean had been keen to stop over at what was supposedly the 'best pie in America', but their post-case-closure quest for pie became somewhat rushed when their phones buzzed with texts from Cas to say he was home. And now Dean was turning on the car engine. Sam rolled his eyes dramatically and broke into a jog, then hastily clambering into the passenger seat before his brother drove off and left him in the car park.
'Dean, come on, you really don't need to- you'll see him in about a half hour-'
Dean shook off Sam's attempt to intervene, and pressed the phone firmly against his left ear, out of his brother's reach. 'Hey, Cas,' he said cheerfully.
'Hello Dean? What is it?'
Dean gave a wide, triumphant smile and mouthed 'TOO LATE' while Sam pursed his lips and shifted in the car seat in disgruntled acceptance.
'Hey, Cas. You're familiar with Adolf Hitler, right?' Dean drummed his free hand on the steering wheel - if Sam didn't know better he'd think Dean was nervous, but it was probably the anticipation of recounting to Cas what was possibly what Dean considered as one of his greatest achievements. Sam groaned internally. Oh man, he was gonna tell this to every sorry soul who would listen. And quite possibly Crowley.
Dean could practically hear the angel's brown furrowing. 'Of course, the genocidal German dictator. I recall watching a very insightful Netflix documentary about him a while ago. And if I remember correctly, he was mentioned in a video game you were playing only last week-'
Dean guffawed suddenly, making Sam jump next to him. 'Oh man, Cas, what I just did beats that video game into the dirt.' He whacked the wheel ferociously with his spare hand, before quickly realising he actually needed to steer, sending the impala screeching around a harsh left turn onto an fortunately empty road. Sam was all but clinging on for dear life, a pained grimace plastered on his face. In all fairness, Dean had probably earned a moment of gloating victory in the form of a phone call to Cas. The only problem with these phone calls is that road safety suddenly took a back seat. More often than not Sam complained, or even sometimes persuaded Dean to pull over and switch seats, but he supposed this was a special occasion.
'I'm talking REAL LIFE Nazis taking centre stage here. I mean we've dealt with some weird crap before, and we've had some pretty damn satisfying victories but nothing, I repeat, NOTHING will top this one!' He howled out loud, letting go of the wheel momentarily in his excitement, only to have it snatched immediately by a progressively more annoyed Sam. Dean flapped his arm pathetically at his brother's attempt to take the wheel and grunted a vaguely intelligible and offended 'Dude, I got this,' while Cas waited in confused silence on the other end of the phone.
'Anyway, we ran into our good old friends the Nazi Necromancers, they left a suspicious trail of deaths and actions, yaddayaddayadda, and BOOM, we find ourselves in a plot - wait for it - to actually resurrect Hitler in a new body.' Sam knew Dean had initially intended on getting to the point quickly so that he could gloat sooner, but recently he'd become quite animated in recounting hunting ventures to Cas on the phone. Usually he was renowned for bluntly getting to the point, but he'd watched Dean get more into the storytelling - especially when the listener actually seemed to be interested in what he had to say. Plus, as Dean insisted, if Cas couldn't make it on a hunt, then he had to be given the rundown so he didn't get confused when references were made, right? So a phone call after a hunt was totally necessary. And this story in particular, Dean had obviously already decided, was one that required dramatic finesse.
Sam could hear the surprise in Cas' voice when he replied. 'That's... quite extraordinary. It's quite an alarming concept, I must admit.'
'Right? So turns out they were all running round after this fancy-ass pocket watch, which, y'know, had carried hitler's soul for the last eighty-odd years, which was why the bodies were dropping. But they needed a descendant of Hitler himself to get his blood pumping. Literally. They kidnapped this poor girl - who was totally BADASS, by the way, but I'll get onto that in a bit - who was a descendant of the bastard, to use her blood, and then BOOM, Hitler was reborn and was barking threats at none other than yours truly only moments later.'
Dean paused for breath, letting Cas take all of the information in. Sam was beginning to get bored, not least because the events Dean was describing had literally only just happened. He suspected that at this point Cas was probably just humouring Dean. Why else would he listen to Dean rambling on about cases for hours on end? Or, on other occasions, about Dean's obsession with his many, many favourite rock groups? Or about how he'd been tipped off about where he could get the best pie in the entire United States and about how he'd make sure he'd get Cas a slice? The angel was obviously too polite to say anything.
'You actually... witnessed Hitler's reincarnation?' The incredulity in Cas' voice was unmistakable. 'Having him reborn in the 21st century... especially someone so inherently evil, who you presumed was dead and gone, and to have him appear in front of you and to be unable to predict what would happen next... It must've been terrifying.' Cas said, his tone concerned. Dean's expression softened - he was vaguely touched.
Sam, meanwhile, was mentally noting how much more vocal Cas was in phone calls nowadays. Phone calls between the hunters and the angel used to exist purely for the conveyance of information, and usually for the benefit of a case. Now, when listening to his and Dean's conversations, there was less of Cas compliantly acting like an assistant, and more of... well, an actual conversation.
Dean sucked his breath in through his teeth. 'You betcha,' he said, ducking his head slightly to check a road sign, his tongue sticking out from his mouth slightly in concentration.
On the other end of the phone, Cas took the momentary silence as a bad sign. 'He didn't hurt you, did he?' His concern was now very evident.
Dean's guffaw made both Cas and Sam jump. Sam thought he heard a sound distinctly like the receiver being dropped in shock at the other end, but even if it was, Dean didn't notice, as he'd launched into the most crucial part of his narrative.
'Oh man, the complete opposite, Cas. I admit, it was looking dire for a moment, and part of me was seriously thinking, "Crap, this guy is the real deal", because... I dunno, it was really spooky how much he was like Hitler. Sounds stupid, I know, but when you're literally faced with the reincarnation of the most evil dictator in history, you kind of freeze, y'know?' Dean swallowed, his flow briefly lost. The lump in his throat that had appeared when actually faced with what he was describing had now returned. It wasn't so much adrenaline-driven, nor was it caused by fear alone. It was something far more primal - a dark feeling, more intense than dread, and reaching deeper than any horror he had ever felt or witnessed. He couldn't quite pinpoint an emotion.
The silence Dean was met with on the other end of the phone was a brief yet an understanding one. He could all but picture Cas' face at this point. The furrowed brow, the slightly parted mouth, and the will visible in his expression to provide comfort without necessitating an all-out heart-to-heart session. At times, this was exactly what Dean needed. Sam, registering this, sat silently in his seat, not daring to move a muscle and remind Dean of his presence. He felt vaguely uncomfortable, as if he was intruding.
Dean cleared his throat pointedly, but Cas was the first one to speak. 'What happened next?'
Dean smiled smugly to himself. It was at this moment that Sam realised: yep, this is it. It's official. Dean would never get tired of telling this goddamn story.
''Kay, remember that girl I told you about? We hadn't even begun to FORMULATE what we were gonna do next, what with us coming to terms with having a minor staring contest with the goddamn Führer - but then up she leapt, gun in hand, and BOOM! Headshot to Nazi minion number one! Told you she was badass - I mean she must've lost at least a gallon of blood at this point. Then next thing you know, heads are being blown off left, right, and centre, and lo and behold, I am standing with a gun, facing Hitler himself.' Dean paused briefly, grinning and shaking his head to himself in utter disbelief. Sam peered at another upcoming road sign, mentally noting that they had just under a mile to go. 'And then I did something that every sane human being would do in my situation,' he struggled to keep the glee out of his voice, and ultimately failed. 'I FRIGGIN PUNCHED HITLER.'
The gravelly laughter that echoed down the line was joined by Dean momentarily, before he tapped the wheel excitedly with his free hand and quickfired a 'WAITWAITWAIT, it gets better - I have my gun in my hand, right, and friggin Hitler is lying bloody-nosed on the cold hard ground- DUDE, NOW IS NOT THE TIME FOR TAYLOR SWIFT; IT WAS AN UNINTENTIONAL REFERENCE. And then ready, aim...'
The laughter paused, and Dean exchanged an utterly ecstatic look with Sam, who was now watching his brother with a bemused expression. Only Dean could go through such a plethora of complicated emotions in the space of a day or so and still come out of it looking like an excited puppy. Sam nodded at Dean as if in approval to proceed, looking ahead at the road with a grin stretching across his face as his brother loudly crowed: 'I KILLED HITLER!'
Dean let out a victorious whoop as they pulled into the bunker car park, concentrating - to Sam's relief - on parking as he listened to Cas laugh his congratulations down the phone.
The engine revved into silence as Dean turned off the ignition, and he laughed heartily once more in response to a comment Sam didn't quite catch as he climbed out of the passenger door.
'Alright man, we've just pulled in - we're on our way up.' Dean pulled the phone away from his ear and ended the call with a beep, before rummaging around in the back seat. Sam squinted through the window in momentary confusion, and then recognised the carrier bag from that damn pie shop. Fighting back another grin, Sam banged on the window with his palm. 'Hurry up, man, I'm starving.'
Dean emerged from the car with the carrier bag, looking slighted. 'Hey. It's not my fault your insides were too delicate for roadside pie,' he said mockingly, marching past Sam, the carrier bag swinging from his right hand as he locked the car.
'Go get yourself some rabbit food from the kitchen. I think it's Cas' turn to get groceries, thank God, so we'll actually get some real food soon.'
With the distinctive clank of the door shutting behind them, and the familiar clattering of their boots tramping down the iron steps, both brothers relaxed instantly. They raised their arms to wave at Cas, who was perched on a chair just below them sipping some tea, his jacket flung off and his tie askew, surrounded by books and papers on the table.
He smiled warmly as Sam and Dean came over. 'You've had a very busy day,' he said, his eyes searching Dean and falling on the carrier bag in his hand.
Dean glanced down. 'OH YEAH. Didn't think I'd stop by the best pie joint in the entire U S of A and not bring you a slice, did you?' he said, his voice muffled slightly by the crinkling of the bag as he produced a slightly crumpled styrofoam container and thrust it in Cas' direction.
Cas' face positively lit up as he took the box and opened it, and Dean beamed back at him sheepishly, while Sam looked incredulously from the box to Dean, then shaking his head and snorting quietly to himself.
Dean, undoubtedly for Cas' benefit, had now started a dramatic reenactment of the showdown, and was prancing around, his hands clasped together in the shape of a gun, his brow furrowed dramatically; and in spite of having just had the story recounted to him, Cas was laughing along, helping himself to the remains of pie in the styrofoam box. Sam chuckled along with the reenactment, and went over the events of the day in his head. It was certainly one to tell the grandkids.
Later on in the kitchen, Sam jokingly confronted Dean. 'I'm surprised you were willing to share your victory pie,' he smirked, helping himself to a smoothie from the fridge.
Dean shrugged as he chucked a plate in the sink. 'Well, y'know, I promised Cas over the phone the other day I'd be getting him some.' He looked questioningly at Sam as he turned to open the fridge, who was still smirking to himself. Then Dean's eyes widened, and he suddenly rummaged in his pocket for his phone. 'Shoot, I almost forgot.'
Dean thrust the phone to his ear, waiting for the voice on the other end; then his mouth crept into a small smile.
'Hey, Cas. Could you pick up extra pie when you're out?' Dean's hand tapped absent-mindedly on the fridge door. 'Ha, of course, I know you never forget,' he said loudly, narrowing his eyes pointedly at his brother. Sam raised his eyebrows and huffed. 'But man, today's dish is going to leave me with severe withdrawal- ugh, tell me about it; the apple with that tang of blackberry-'
Sam rolled his eyes with a bemused sigh, and slid out of the kitchen, leaving Dean lamenting his pie-based woes to poor Cas. And unsurprisingly, a few minutes later, he was certain he heard a gloating 'Excuse me, you're speaking to the guy who just killed friggin Hitler,' echoing from the kitchen.
Seems that everything warranted a phone call nowadays.