Stronger Than Ever Δ SPN [3]

011. MEMORY WIPE

Sam and the three teens get to a diner that Dean said he would be out, having been missing all night.

"Oh. Hey, did you bring any, um..." Dean grimaces, motioning to his head. Sam holds up a pill bottle, shaking it. "Yes." Dean opens the bottle.

"Sounded like you could use it." Sam says, sitting next to his brother, the teens also sitting down.

"Oh, man." Dean groans.

"Rough night?" Sam asks.

"Rough morning." Dean corrects, taking the pills with his coffee.

"Wh-what happened? I mean, you just went out to get some food." Sam says.

"I don't know." Dean says.

"What does that mean?" Sam asks.

"How do you not know?" Ophelia asks as the same time.

"I-I guess I blacked out. And judging from this hangover, it was epic." Dean says.

"Well, I tried to call you." Sam says.

Dean pulls his cell phone out and they all see that it's cracekd.

"Not sure how that happened." Dean says.

"Great." Sam says, pulling his phone out. "All right, well, I'll text mom, make sure she knows to get a hold of me in case of emergency. And Cas in case he tracks down Kelly."

Dean looks confused at the name Kelly

"The mother of Lucifer's love child?" Sam reminds.

"Right. Right. Yes, the devil baby mama drama." Dean says before grinning. "Say that five times fast. Devil baby mama drama."

"All right, Dean, you know, uh, you had a good run, but maybe let's pump the brakes a little bit. I mean, you're not 20 anymore." Sam says.

"Okay, one, the Rat Pack partied till the day they died. And B, I can still kick your ass." Dean says, taking a bite of waffles. "Got a man and some youngins who need some waffles down here.

"Oh, no. I'm--I'm fine." Sam says.

"We need 'em." Ophelia says, Libby and Nathan agreeing.

"You can just take these if you want." Dean offers, pushing the plate of waffles to Sam. Sam holds his hand up to motion for the bill.

"No, Dean. Look, the morgue opens in, like, 10 minutes." Sam says. Ophelia grabs the plate in front of Sam and starts eating it, sharing with Nathan. A plate of waffles comes out and Libby takes it, thanking the waitress.

"The morgue?" Dean asks.

"The autopsy results. Are you still drunk?" Sam asks.

"I don't think so." Dean says. Sam sniffs Dean, earning confused looks from his family.

"All right, our--our case?" Sam reminds. "The dead guy, throat stuffed full of money. Any of this ring a bell?"

"Right, yes. Right. Um... the accountant. Barry Gilman." Dean remembers.

"Right." Sam nods.

"Right." Dean echoes. "Uh, and you think he got his ticket punched by a demon."

"Maybe."

"Okay, but when we went over to his place yesterday, we got a whole bunch of jack and a little bit of squat. There was no hex bags, no EMF, no sulfur, which means no case."

"Yeah, but if it's not a case, then what is it?"

"I don't know. Death by money? You know, maybe the guy got whacked by, uh, some mob dude with an ironic sense of humor."